In the Arms of the Angel
by froggirl80
Summary: Shawn reflects on the life, death, and lessons of a special person in his life.  Note:  I don't own the characters to Psych of the lyrics of the song, Anyway
1. Hot dogs and heartbreak

ANYWAY

You can spend your whole life building  
Something from nothin'  
One storm can come and blow it all away  
Build it anyway

You can chase a dream  
That seems so out of reach  
And you know it might not ever come your way  
Dream it anyway

God is great  
But sometimes life ain't good  
And when I pray  
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should  
But I do it anyway  
I do it anyway

This world's gone crazy  
It's hard to believe  
That tomorrow will be better than today  
Believe it anyway  
You can love someone with all your heart  
For all the right reasons  
In a moment they can choose to walk away  
Love 'em anyway

God is great  
But sometimes life ain't good  
And when I pray  
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should  
But I do it anyway  
I do it anyways

You can pour your soul out singing  
A song you believe in  
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang  
Sing it anyway  
Yea - sing it anyway

I sing  
I dream  
I love  
OH Anyway

My mom's dead. She died of ovarian cancer. It was the hardest and most painful thing I ever had to deal with in my life. No one wants to see his or her mom suffer. But I did. I saw my mom just fade away. My mom, once a gym nut, no longer had the strength to walk to the bathroom and bathe herself. My mom, who had the most beautiful brown hair in the world, wore a green scarf to cover her bald head. My mom who spent hours outside in her rose garden, spent hours in a hospital bed in her room. I couldn't believe that this was happening. _How? What? Why?_ were just a few of the questions that ran through my head after my mom told me she was sick. I'll never forget that day as long I live.

**FLASHBACK **

**I was sitting with Gus in the Psych offices…working. Well, not working. We were discussing a case and holding an ice cream eating contest. We were seeing who could eat the most pineapple-flavored ice cream. Well, it wasn't really a contest. Gus was eating nice and slow. I, on the other hand, was wolfing the stuff down. **

**"Shawn, you better slow it down," he said. **

**"Slow is not in my vocabulary, dude," I said, ice cream dribbling down my chin. **

**Then, it happened. "OWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BRAIN FREEZE!!!!" I screamed, holding my head. I had just gotten a nasty, horrible headache. **

** "Serves you right, Shawn," said Gus, leaning back on a chair. **

**"Well, it was worth it," I said. I counted the empty plastic bowls on the foosball table. I had eaten 5 bowls of ice cream while Gus was only on his 2nd bowl. "I won!!!! I totally and completely kicked your butt!!" **

**"Shawn Michael Spencer, I sincerely hope you are not making a mess," I heard a voice. I turned around to see my mom, standing there looking amazing in a navy blue dress with a matching hat. **

**"Hey, Mom! Ohmigosh!! I screamed, racing over to her, picking her up, and giving her a big hug. "What a awesome surprise!!! "Hey, sweetie!!" she said, returning my hug. "How are you, Shawn?******

** "I'm great, how are you?" I said, giving her a big kiss. **

**"I'm wonderful, baby," he said. **

**Gus came over and said, "Hey, Miss Abigail, good to see you," he said, giving her a kiss. **

**"Likewise, Burton," she said. "Have you been keeping my son in line?" **

**"Miss Abigail, no one can keep him in line," Gus scoffed. **

**"Very funny, dude," I said. **

**"Yeah, it's funny and if you'll excuse me, I need to go to work," said Gus, picking up his samples case and black sports jacket. **

** "Bye, guys," he said. **

** "Bye, Gus," we said. **

**"So, are full from ice cream or do you have room for lunch?" She asked. **

**"Ahhh, Mom, you know me, I can eat, anytime, anywhere," I said. **

**"And anything," Mom added. **

**"Oh, Mom, are you still talking about the time when Gus & I ate those mud pies?" I asked, washing my face in the bathroom. **

**"No, actually I was talking about the time, you ate paste, vomited, and had to go to the hospital" she asked. **

**"Aww, yeah, I may have forgot about that," I said. **

**"Ahhh, yeah," she said. **

**We laughed and walked to a little hot dog place that my parents use to take me to when I was little. They have the best hot dogs in the world and I would get them all the time. We settled on a table outside, overlooking the water. Despite have 5 bowls for ice cream; I had ordered 3 foot-long hot dogs, a large order of fries with cheese and gravy, and a large Pepsi. My mom only got one hot dog, a small order of plain fries, and a small water. I found that to be a little odd because my mom, despite being a health nut. usually eats three hot dogs. But I was too busy eating to really notice. Throughout our meal, we spent a lot of time talking. I told her about business at Psych and the problems I was having with my girlfriend, Sarah. Mom told me about her singing in church and the new quilt she was sewing . After the meal, we walked to the beach and sat down on a bench. We looked at the water for a while. **

**"It never ceases to amaze me, the water, so peaceful and calm and beautiful," she said, staring at the water. "Every time, I am around the beach, I feel a sense of peace." **

** My mom looked down and put her face in her hands. She seemed so distressed. **

**"Mom," I said, questionly, moving closer to her. "What's wrong?" I asked, rubbing her shoulder. **

**"I'm sick, Shawn!" She exclaimed, looking up at me tears, running down her face. **

**I stood up in shock. "What-what did you say?" **

**"I'm sick, Shawn," she said, quietly. I stood there, still in shock. **

** "Please, please sit down," she said.**

** I sat down next to Mom. Still tears in her eyes, she held my hand and looked me in the eye. **

**She explained what was going on. "Sweetie, about a month ago, I was at the gym, working out. I was in the locker room, changing, when I felt this terrible pain by my stomach. At first, I though, **_**Oh, I pulled a muscle, exercising. **_**But then, the pain got worst and worst, so, I made an appointment with my doctor. And they ran a lot of test and they found out that I have ovarian cancer." **

**I didn't let what she said get to me. I found myself quickly asking, "But there are treatments, right? I mean, you could do chemo treatments or have surgery, right?" **

**My mom looked sad and said, "Well, the doctor said those are all possible. In fact, I'm gonna start treatments and get surgery next week." **

**"And you will make it?" I asked, hopefully. **

**Mom said nothing. **

**I grabbed her shoulders and asked, firmly, "Mom, you're gonna make it, right?" **

**Mom looked at me and said, "Shawn, when the doctors found the cancer, it had already spread. The doctors say that even with the treatments, I have six months to a year." **

**At the moment, I felt like an elephant had kicked me in the stomach and knocked the wind completely and totally out of me. I couldn't comprehend what my mom had said. My mom was sick and dying? **

**"How could this be, Mom?' I asked. "How could you be sick? You're healthy, mom. You work out everyday, you eat healthy expect for hot dogs. You're not sick; you can fight this, ok? I mean you're the strongest woman I've ever met." **

**I sat down and felt a lump grow in my throat. I felt tears burn in my eyes and I rubbed them away, quickly. I wasn't a crier. But it was then that I felt my mom's warm hand rest on my back. **

**Her voice was suddenly so soft and gentle. "Baby, I know you're angry and scared. So am I. I'm very scared. I have never been so scared in my life." My mom looked away and I saw a tear coming down her face. It was at that time, I realized I needed to put away my own pain and comfort my mom. **

**I turned my mom around so she could face me. "Mom. I promise you right now, I will help you get through this," I spoke, firmly. "I will be there for you, like you were there for me." **

**My mom gave me a sad smile. Tears in her eyes, she hugged me and said, "Thank you, Shawn," she said. "I love you." **

**Hugging her close and fighting off my own tears, I whispered into my mom's shoulder, "I love you, too." **

**END OF FLASHBACK**

And that is what I did. I helped my mom. I began flying back and forth from Santa Barbara to Georgia every weekend. I talked with Mom's doctors and arranged for a hospice nurse to help my mom. I did that for six months. Then, one day I got a call from my mom's hospice nurse that my mom's cancer was getting worse. So, without question, I gave control of the cases, which were a lot, to Gus and I flew down to Georgia to be with my mom. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see.


	2. Just Feel

As I flew down to Savannah, Georgia, I reflected on the past six months with my mother. Those were literally the hardest months of my life. One month after my mom told me about her cancer, I flew down to be with her in surgery. She had a hysterectomy. We thought that it would allow the cancer to go away. But it didn't. In fact, it got worst. Soon, my mother was involved in aggressive chemotherapy treatments. Over the next few weeks, I saw my mom's weight drop and her hair fall out. Her appetite was gone and her strength was gone too. She didn't have the energy to walk along the beach. All she could do was sleep. When she was awake, she would lie or set up in her bed. However, she always had the energy to smile at me, talk to me, and sing for me.

Despite all this, I got really close to my mom during these six months. I was always at my mom's side, holding her hand, giving her water, rubbing her arms and feet that now had bruises from the treatments. Sometimes, I would even lie next to her in her bed like a little kid…. Just because she wanted me close by. I rested my head on the pillow next to her. I would listen to her tell me stories about her whole life, childhood, her marriage to my dad, everything. In every story, there was a message; and the message was to never stop dreaming, never stop loving someone. No matter how hard life got or how much it hurt, I should dream anyway, I should love anyway. This is how my mother lived her life. And I admired her so much for her.

My mother was the strongest woman I ever met. She had dealt with so much pain in her life. From a young age, everything was such a struggle. She was born to a young mother and was adopted by a really nice, wealthy family from Savannah. They raised her and her little brother, my Uncle Tom, there. Life was good until my mother was 11 and was diagnosed with childhood leukemia. For six months, my grandparents were living in a child hospital, scared to death that they may lose their little girl. However, my mom pulled through and the doctors told her that she was cancer-free. So, my mom settled back into her childhood, which was pretty awesome. She went to high school and college. Then, the day after her college graduation, she moved to Los Angeles and met my dad, which started another important chapter in her life.

You can love someone with all your heart  
For all the right reasons  
In a moment they can choose to walk away  
Love 'em anyway

My mom loved my dad, Henry with all her heart. In her eyes, my dad was the love of her life. How they met is pretty…..interesting, if I do say so myself. My mom had moved to California after college to become an actress and a singer. She was walking along Sunset Boulevard, upset over a failed audition. She was so busy dwelling in her disappointment, that she didn't realize that some jerk was lurking behind her. So, she got mugged. The dude stole her purse and everything. My dad, who was a cop, happened to be driving by with his partner. He got out and ran after the guy, catching him and locking him up. My dad walked by, seeing my mother, looking so sad. He felt sorry for her so he bought her a piece of pineapple upside down cake since pineapple was her favorite fruit. Apparently, the pineapple date turned to into another date and another and another and then…six months later, my dad got down on one knee and proposed to my mother. They married a year after that. Five years later, I came into the world and we all moved to Santa Barbara. My mom decide to give up her dream of being an actress and singer to be a stay at home mom and take care of me. When I got older and went to school, my mom worked taught drama at a local high school and singing lessons at a music conservatory.

At times, I wondered if my mom regretted giving up her dream for me. She could have been traveling around the world, making a lot of money, winning a lot of awards. Not stuck in Santa Barbara, teaching drama. I asked about that one day when I was 13 years old. She just smiled and kissed me my forehead. "Shawn Michael, I may not have a lot of money or an Oscar but I have something better, you" she said. "You were the biggest dream I ever had. And the dream of you and your dad coming true, the dream of the two most important men coming into my life was bigger and better than any dream of becoming an actress and a singer." That was just like my mom, sharing her feelings, telling me how happy I made her, telling me how much she loved me. And she said the same to my dad. She was such a romantic; she would out of her way to make me Dad feel special; cooking his favorite meals, leaving cute love notes around the house, calling him a lot just to say, "I love you." But my dad never said it back. He never told me or my mom that he loved us. Or that he was proud of us. And it hurt. My dad was really involved in his work; it seemed that he lost himself in police work and ignore everything and everyone else. Nothing seemed more important to him than being a cop, not even Mom & I.

****

FLASHBACK

You can spend your whole life building  
Something from nothin'  
One storm can come and blow it all away  
Build it anyway

My parents' marriage began to suffer as a result of my dad's constant preoccupation with his job. But things went from bad to worst when I was eight years old. My mom had so wanted to give me a brother or sister but had a very hard time having kids. In fact, before she had me, she had two miscarriages. We never knew why she had a hard time getting pregnant; maybe it was because she was sick as a child or something else. Whatever it was, it was hard for her to get pregnant. She finally did and told me on my 6th birthday. All throughout the next few months, we prepared for our new baby. And we were excited. I was impatient, too. I would go to my mom every morning and ask; "  
Is the baby here yet? Am I a big brother?" Of course, I didn't know anything about pregnancy of anything but it didn't matter. I was finally gonna become a big brother. However, something happen. I'll never forget that day. My dad came to school and pulled me out of my math class. He drove me to the hospital. All through the drive, I was filled with excitement, thinking that he was taking me to see my new baby sister or brother. But it not what happened. My dad parked the car in the garage and looked at me with a hard, emotional-less face. And he said, "Shawn, you're gonna need to be brave. Your mother had a baby girl, your sister, Rachel Anne."

I was so happy. "I have a sister!!" I was screaming with so much happiness!!!

"Shawn Michael, stop!!" he screamed.

He sounded so angry that I shut up. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"The baby didn't make it," my dad said, not looking at me. "The baby died."

"What?" I asked.

"There were problems, when Mom had the baby," he said, still looking at the mass of cars in front of us. "And the baby was sick. And she couldn't get better. So, she died."

I sat in silence. I couldn't believe it. I had spent so long waiting, and getting pumped for a new sister and when I finally get one, she dies.

Dad turned to me and said, "Shawn, I need you to be brave. Your mother has been through so much. Don't cry, ok? Just be a man."

So, I was. My dad dropped me off in the hospital room because he had to go to work. Before he left, he said, "Abigail, Shawn's here. My mom will pick him in an hour. Watch him,." He said. With that, he left. I walked into my mom's hospital room. I saw her lying in the dark, the only light being from a faint lamp. I tiptoed, scared to death. My mom heard my footsteps and turned to see me.

"Shawn, my little boy," she whispered.

I was so scared. I couldn't even speak.

"Shawn Michael, please come to me," she pleaded.

So, I did. I walked to my mom and saw more of my mom's face. She looked so tired and sad. Her eyes were red and filled with pain.

"I'm so sorry, Mommy," she said.

"I know you are, sweetness," she called me. Please sit on the bed, next to me."

I saw the pain in my mom's eyes and it made me want to cry but I couldn't. I remembered my father's words. "Don't cry." But I did sit on the bed, still looking away. I couldn't look at my mom. "Why did baby Rachel died?"

"She was sick, sweetie," she said, stroking my hand. "And she couldn't get better."

I just sat there, not talking, not looking at my mom.

"Shawn, honey, why aren't you looking at me?" she asked.

"Because Daddy told me to be brave, to not cry," I said.

She turned me to face her and said, quite bitterly, "Well, that's your father. Be brave. Be strong," she mocked in a male voice. Then, she talked in her regular voice. "Don't listen to your father, Shawn. No matter what he says, just remember. It's okay to cry, sweetness." I heard my mom's voice crack and then, she broke down. I crawled into my mom's arms and felt her tears go on my T-shirt. I patted her back and told her, It's okay, Mommy. It's okay."

END OF FLASHBACK

And it was okay. My mom always told me it was okay to let my feelings out. But my dad disagreed. He felt it was best that I keep my feelings inside. And that's when things went really bad between my parents. After Rachel's stillbirth, my parents' relationship was nonexistent. Life threw them other curveballs. Just two months after Rachel's stillbirth, my mom found out she couldn't have any more kids. Then, my dad got shot in the line of duty a year later. A year after that, both of grandfathers died within a four months period. With all this pain and sadness, my parents drifted further and further apart. They became two different people. To comfort herself, Mom began going to church and singing in the choir. Dad became an atheist, always mocking her for going to church and Bible study. "Why do you bother going to church, Abigail? Huh? What's the use?." My father asked my mother, angrily one Sunday when she asked him to go with her. "Look at all the pain in this world, in this family. You think God cares? Well, I got news for you, honey., He doesn't!!!! If He cared, we would have our fathers, we would have our daughter."

That's how my dad felt and that's how he treated my mother. For the nest few years, my parents fought constantly. I would hide in my room, under the covers, trying so hard to not hear the screaming and yelling between my parents. One night, my mom would be mad that my dad missed an important school meeting for me or my mom would be upset that Dad wouldn't talk about their marriage problems. I was so scared. There would be times when I would stay over at Gus' house. That was my only safe haven, my only form of peace. And then, it happened. Two days after my fifteenth birthday, my mom came home to find a note form my dad, saying that he moved out and wanted a divorce. A month later, my mom was given divorce papers. Six months later, the divorce was finally and my mom moved out into her best friend's beach house. Other children of divorce may think that I was pout in the middle. But I wasn't. I tried to help both my parents but my dad didn't want my help. However, my mom always wanted my help. She and I began especially closer after my parents' divorce, even when she moved back to Savannah, Georgia when her mom died and left my mom her beach house. And that is what made my mom's illness harder for me to take, well m two things, A, my mom and I were so close and B, my dad couldn't have cared less.

It upset me that my father paid no interest in her illness. During the six months, that I spent flying back and forth to Georgia, my dad never asked about her or how she was doing. He never visited her with me. And it hurt me because I know it hurt my mom as well. Even though my parents were divorced, my mom still cared about my dad. I like to think he cared about her as well. I hadn't pushed my dad to see my mother but when I got the call from Nicole, the hospice nurse, telling how bad the cancer not was, I decided that I was gonna ask my dad to come with me to Savannah.

I drove up in Gus' car and knocked on the door.

My dad opened the door.

"Hey, Dad," I said.

"Shawn, what are you doing her and why is Gus sitting in his car?" he said. "Haven't I taught you proper manners?"

"No, Mom did," O said.

"What d you want , Shawn?" my dad asked.

"I want you to come to Georgia with me,": I said.

"No, Shawn, I'm not going with you, we've discussed this," he said, coming out into his porch with a cup of coffee.

"No, Dad, we haven't discussed this," I said. "Mom is sick, okay?"

"I know that, Shawn," he said. "She told me."

"She told you?" I asked. "When?"

"The day before she told you," he said. "We had coffee at the same place where we had our first date. And she told me everything, about her surgery, her chemo."

I stood there, amazed. "I cannot believe this," I said. "You knew about Mom being sick and you haven't paid her a visit?"

"No, Shawn, I haven't," he said. "Its best this way."

"it's best this way?" I questioned him. "My mom's sick, Dad, ok? I just got a called from her nurse, saying that the cancer has gotten worse and she could die any day." My voice cracked a little bit.

"You know what, Shawn?" he said. "If you gonna help your mom, you better be a man and suck it up."

"Suck it up? Suck it up?" I demanded. "This is my mother, damnit!! Ok, my mother is sick. I have been flying back and forth, taking care of her. Giving her medicine, walking her to the bathroom, holding a trash can she could throw up. And I always put my feelings aside, keeping it all inside just like you tell me. Keeping it all inside because my mother CAN'T suck it up cause she's crying all the time cause she's in such pain. But you wouldn't know that, now would you?"

My dad stood there, shocked at what I said. "Forget it, Dad," I said. 'I got a plane to catch."

With that, I left and flew down to Georgia. Although the flight, I thought about my dad. How could he do this to me? To my mom? I just couldn't comprehend it but I put it out of my head. I needed to prepare myself for what I was about to see and deal with.


	3. Song of Comfort

_**You can pour your soul out singing**__**  
**__**A song you believe in**__**  
**__**That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang**__**  
**__**Sing it anyway**__**  
**__**Yea - sing it anyway**_

I arrived at my mom's house in Georgia at about 5 in the afternoon. I was greeted by my mom's hospice nurse, Nicole, a young, blonde-haired girl just out of nursing school. She took my suitcase to the guest room. I walked into the living room and then, I saw her, my mom. Man, I'll never forget how she looked when I walked in. Her body, wrapped in a white blanket, was puffed up like a marshmallow from all the chemo and medicine she had taken. Her face was pale and worn. Her head, once covered with brown hair, was now bald, covered with a purple scarf. Despite being with her all these months, it still cut me so deep, seeing her look so ill, so…lifeless. I turned away and put my face in my hands, trying hard to stop the tears were coming. And Dad told me to suck it up and be a man. How could I? How could I be strong when I saw my mother, my beautiful mother, on the verge of death? It was all too much for me to take. But I had. I saw my mother. She was staring out the window, looking at the ocean waves crash with purple-pink sky coming on them. In the background, I heard the CD player playing a song that was sort of familiar to me.

_**You are my strength when I am weak**__**  
**__**you are the treasure that I seek**__**  
**__**You are my all in all**__**  
**__**Seeking you like a precious jewel**__**  
**__**Lord to give up I'd be a fool**__**  
**__**You are my all in all **__**Jesus lamb of God**__**  
**__**Holy is your name (2x)**__**  
**__**Taking my cross my sin my shame**__**  
**__**raising again I praise your name**__**  
**__**you are my all in all**__**  
**__**When I fall down you pick me up**__**  
**__**when I run dry you fill my cup**__**  
**__**You are my all in all **_

I stood in the doorway, watching my mother sing along to the CD. I was amazed at this; a woman, sick with cancer, unable to get out of bed would be singing. But that was my mother. She loved singing. She had been singing since she was a kid and sang at weddings, funerals, in church and talent shows. But mostly, I loved hearing when she sang for me. She had the most beautiful voice I've ever heard in my life. Gus and I had been to so many concerts, heard so many awesome singers; none of them compared to my mom.

I walked into the living and said, "Hey, Mom." Mom turned to me and smiled. In a little voice, she said, "Hello, Shawn" I walked closer to her and gave her a small hug, being careful of her fragile body. She frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked, panicky, afraid I had hurt her. "Just the fact that you gave me a weak hug," she said with a laugh. "I want a big hug, baby." I laughed and gave Mom a big hug. I felt her give me a squeeze, which made me feel a little better about the situation.

"How are you, son?" she asked.

"I'm good, how are you?" I asked as I sat down on the wicker chair beside the couch.

"I'm holding up," she said. "I must look awful."

My heart melted. "No, Mom," I breathed, tears in my eyes. "You look so beautiful."

She smiled, took my hand, and kissed it. "How's business at Psych?" She asked, still holding my hand.

"Good, it's good," I responded, moving myself to the couch so Mom didn't have to stretch to hold my hand. "Gus is complaining that he has to work at that boring pharmacial job. But it's good. We've been solving a lot of cases."

My mom smiled at me. "It seems like you found your calling, darling."

"Yeah, finally," I said, rubbing her hand. I looked down at our clasped hands, amazed at the closeness I had with my mom and sadden and angered that I didn't have that with my father or that he wasn't here with us. We both needed him.

"What's wrong, darling?" she asked in her sweet Georgia drawl.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Nothing, Mom."

My mom gave me a sideways look. "Shawn Michael, you cannot fool me. Now what is wrong?" she asked.

I dropped her hand and stood up in anger. "I just cannot take it any more," I vented. "I mean, just before I flew down here, I asked Dad to come with me. And he said that I should suck it up. Can you believe that?"

My mom sighed and said, "Well, yes, I can."

"Mom, he just doesn't get it," I said, pacing around the living room. "I know that you two have been divorced for 15 years but still he was your husband for 20 years and he is the father of your son. I mean, he should be here for me and you."

Mom looked at me, critically. After a while, she asked, "Son, what is this really about?"

I looked at my mom and said, "You." "Mom, I'm going to lose you," I said, a lump growing in my throat. "Mom, do you have any idea what you have taught me in my life?"

"What, sweetness?" she asked.

"So much," I said, sitting on the bed and taking her hand again. "You took me how to feel, how to be strong, how to dream and how to love. Because you gave me all of that." I struggled because I felt tears form in my eyes. "And when you go, I will not have that." With that, I put my face and rubbed my eyes.

"Aww, my poor little boy," she said, placing warm hands on my head, stroking my hair. "I know that right now, it may not seem that you will have your strength. At times, I felt the same way."

"How could that be possible?" I asked, wiping my face. "You were so brave. Still are."

"Sweetie, I'm brave because I didn't look to myself for strength but to something higher, something bigger," she said. She pointed to the CD, which ah that song still playing. "Remember this song?"

"Ahh, vaguely," I said. Then, I remembered. "Wait a second," I said. "Isn't this the song you began singing after Rachel died?"

My mother nodded. "Shawn, when I lost the baby, I felt like I was falling into the deepest, darkest hole. And my minister, Reverend Kincaid came to visit me and I told him how I was feeling; how weak I was, how empty I felt, how I felt I had nothing. And he played me this song. I listened to this song over and over again. And the more I listened to it, the more I understood the words. Whenever I felt depressed, I knew that I wasn't alone, that God was by my side. I knew He would give me strength and I would be able to get through the day." "

Well, Mom, that's a nice thought," I said, fingering the white blanket. "But I just don't feel that way right now." I got up and looked out the window. The sky was slowly changing from purple to black and the moon was starting to come out. The waves rose and crashed onto the beach. It looked awesome.

"Shawn, do you remember when I use to sing to you?" She asked.

I turned to her and smiled. "Yeah, I do. You use to sing to me all the time, when it was time to go to bed, when I had a nightmare, when I was sick, when my school had talent shows. I don't remember a time when you didn't sing. I miss that. I miss how I felt when I heard you sing." I walked over to my mother and lay on the bed next to her (it was a big bed so it could fit me).

"How did you feel?" She asked, resting a hand on mine.

I took a deep breath. "Well, it felt like a warm blanket covering me on a cold night" I said. "I felt safe, I felt strong, and I felt cared for. I mean, no matter what was going on in my life, no matter how bad things were, no matter how hard things were, all I had to do was hear you sing and I knew, deep down in here" -I pointed to my heart- "that everything would be all right."

My mom rubbed my back, like she did when I was a little boy, when I had a hard time going to sleep. As I felt her touch, I heard a new song on the CD. It was a song I knew well. It was sung by one of my favorite singers, Sarah MacLachlan. The song was "Angel". It was simply one of the most gorgeous songs I had ever heard because the lyrics were amazing. They were the words that my mom knew could bring me comfort in a horrible situation like this. She knew so much that she began singing with the CD. It blew me away that this woman, on the verge of death, would still have the strength to sing. That was my mom, always singing when the opportunity came up. So, I decided to take this opportunity to have my mom bring me comfort. I had been doing the same for her these past 6 months. Now, it was time for her to return the favor. So, I just laid my head next to my mom. She kept on rubbing my back and then, she caressed my face. I savored her touch and her sweet, smoothing voice.

_**Spend all your time waiting**__**  
**__**For that second chance**__**  
**__**For a break that would make it okay**__**  
**__**There's always one reason**__**  
**__**To feel not good enough**__**  
**__**And it's hard at the end of the day**__**  
**__**I need some distraction**__**  
**__**Oh beautiful release**__**  
**__**Memory seeps from my veins**__**  
**__**Let me be empty**__**  
**__**And weightless and maybe**__**  
**__**I'll find some peace tonight**__****_

_**In the arms of an angel**__**  
**__**Fly away from here**__**  
**__**From this dark cold hotel room**__**  
**__**And the endlessness that you fear**__**  
**__**You are pulled from the wreckage**__**  
**__**Of your silent reverie**__**  
**__**You're in the arms of the angel**__**  
**__**May you find some comfort there**__**  
**_  
_**So tired of the straight line**__**  
**__**And everywhere you turn**__**  
**__**There's vultures and thieves at your back**__**  
**__**And the storm keeps on twisting**__**  
**__**You keep on building the lie**__**  
**__**That you make up for all that you lack**__**  
**__**It don't make no difference**__**  
**__**Escaping one last time**__**  
**__**It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh**__**  
**__**This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees**__****_

_**In the arms of an angel**__**  
**__**Fly away from here**__**  
**__**From this dark cold hotel room**__**  
**__**And the endlessness that you fear**__**  
**__**You are pulled from the wreckage**__**  
**__**Of your silent reverie**__**  
**__**You're in the arms of the angel**__**  
**__**May you find some comfort there**__**  
**__**You're in the arms of the angel**__**  
**__**May you find some comfort here**_

I did find comfort right there in my mom's living room. That song hit the spot. It touched me in just the right place. It was like having a cup of my mom's hot chocolate on a cold night. It warmed me up inside. My mom's voice, it was so smoothing, which is exactly what I needed since the last six months were so hard. In addition to my mom being sick, I had broke up with my girlfriend, Katie, Gus and I were getting more and more cases for Psych. Plus, I was having problems with my dad in regards to my mom's illness. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. It was so draining. I felt so tired, emotionally and physically. At times, I wanted to given up for I just couldn't deal with it anymore. But now, I felt calm. I felt at ease. And I embraced those feelings. I went to sleep, something I hadn't done well in months since I was so busy. I just lay beside my mom, hearing her sweet, gentle voice and feeling her backrubs and went to sleep. It was true; no matter what was going on in my life, my mom's voice reassured me that everything would be all right.

I slept for a couple of hours until I felt a hand shake my shoulder.

"Shawn, Shawn," said a voice.

I woke up and rubbed my eyes to see Mom's hospice nurse, Nicole looking at me.

"Shawn, it's your mom," she said. "She's gotten worst."

I sat up and looked at my mother. Her face was pale. Her breaths were becoming slower and shorter. I was so scared, the most scared I had ever been in my life. "Mom?" I asked, tears forming my eyes. "Mom, what---what?" I couldn't even speak.

"I'll get some more medicine," Nicole said, rushing to the table to get some pills.

"No!" Mom said, fiercely yet quietly. "No! No more pills. No more chemo. I'm too weak. I can't do this anymore."

"Mom, come on, you can't give up," I said, my voice cracking. "You got to keep fighting."

My mom looked at me with the saddest eyes. "Sweetie, I can't fight anymore. I just can't." She turned away from me. She couldn't look me in the eye knowing that she was going to give up. I decided right then and there, that I needed to let her know that it was okay.

I rubbed my mom's cheek and said, through a raspy voice. "It's okay, Mom. It's all right if you want to go." I closed my eyes tightly, forcing me to keep in the tears that approaching my eyes.

She turned to me and gave me a sad smile. "Thank you, Shawn," she whispered, tears rolling down her ashen-colored face. Then, she made a request, "Shawn, hold me, please."

I looked at her confused.

"Remember, sweetie?" she asked me. Remember all the times you were sick and I held you?"

I did remember. I remembered when I was sick or sad and my mom would give me a hug. Like her singing, it felt like a warm, blanket. It made me feel better. It made me feel safe. And that is how I wanted her to feel that way and that is why I responded by sitting closer to my mom on the bed and gently guiding my mother's fragile body into my arms. I didn't say anything. I just held her. I stroked her face. I rubbed her arms and legs that were causing her pain. My mom didn't say anything either. We just sat together, seeing the sunset over the water, hearing my mom's beautiful CD.

After an hour of this, my mom looked at me and smiled. "Shawn, I want you to remember something very important. I love you with all my heart I have ever since the day you were born. And I thanked God everyday for you, for my little boy. Shawn Michael, I will be with you, always. Always". With that, my mother breathed one last time and died, right in my arms. I sat there, stunned and in utter disbelief. I reached up and stroked my mother's face again. Nicole sat in a chair across the room. Then, I heard her break down and cried. But I didn't cry. I didn't talk. I didn't do anything. I couldn't. I had just lost the important woman in my life and I wondered not why but how. How did this happen? How could I be hearing my mom, singing to me, talking to me and now, she's dead? I couldn't believe that this was happening. I couldn't believe that this was reality, that this was my reality. I didn't want it to be. I wanted to leave. So, I did. I laid my mom's body gently on the bed and walked out onto the back porch that overlooked the ocean. I sat down on the porch swing and looked at the ocean. The moon was out, shining on the waves, giving them light to crash. The stars were out and there was about a million of them. It was an amazing sight to see. No doubt, Mom would have loved this. So, without thinking about what had happened, I went up to get my mom. I walked into the living room, thinking that she would be bringing out lemonade for us. But what I saw in the living room was not what I envisioned. What I found were two men, wearing black suits in the living room, about to transfer my mom from the hospital bed to the gurney. That is when it hit me. My mother was dead. And these men were from the funeral home, preparing to take my mother away.

"Shawn?" called Nicole turned around to see him standing in the doorway. His eyes were red from crying. "Listen, I know that it was gonna be difficult for you, so I called the people from the funeral home to take your mom." I nodded, partly grateful that she did that for me. I just couldn't comprehend the thought that my mom was dead, let alone, say the words.

"Look, there're gonna be taking your mom to the funeral home soon, so you want to say 'good-bye'?" she said.

In my heart, I didn't want to say good-bye. That would mean it would be final. That would mean that my mom was really dead. I didn't want to let my mom go. I just couldn't. But I needed to. Without a word, I walked into the living room, which had just been lifted onto the gurney, still in her nightgown and purple scarf.

One the funeral directors looked at me and said, "Mr. Spencer, I am so sorry about your loss."

I closed my eyes and said, "Thanks."

"We cannot imagine how difficult this is for you," he continued.  
But we wanted to know if you knew what clothes, you were gonna lay your mother out in for the wake and funeral?"

Wake and funeral. Two words I did not want to hear. "Um, no," I stammered, still looking at my mom. "I'm gonna go through her clothes tomorrow morning. And then, when I go to make the arrangements tomorrow, I'll bring the clothes then."

He nodded and walked out of the house with the other guy. I stood beside the gurney and looked at my mom. For the first time since I was a kid, I prayed. I prayed to God that she would wake up and be better. Or that this was some horrible nightmare and I would wake up. But then, Nicole broke the silence. She touched my arm and said, "I'll leave you alone. Take all the time you need." Nicole nodded and walked out, closing the French doors behind her. There I was all alone with my mom. I walked closer to her. I didn't say anything. I just removed the scarf from her head and rubbed my mom's baldhead.

I closed my eyes and remembered when my mom had hair. She had the most beautiful brown hair I had ever seen; it was long, soft, and shiny. I loved playing with her hair; I loved brushing it and braiding it. Never did in my life did I think the day would come when she wouldn't have her hair or her life.

I finally decided that I needed to talk to her. I needed to tell her how I felt. Still rubbing her head, I spoke what I was feeling. "Mom, I'm so sorry," I whispered, tears burning in my eyes. "I'm so sorry that you had to suffer so much these past 6 months. You didn't deserve that, Momma. You deserved to be outside, sitting on the porch swing with me, the two of us together, drinking lemonade and enjoying the gorgeous sun. That's how it should be. But it's not." When I said the last few words, the reality of my mom dead finally hit me. The tears that were burning my eyes were now coming down my face. I sat on the couch next to the gurney and buried my face in my hands. Through my tears, I demanded, "Why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me?" Then, I realized that I would never get the answers to those questions so I just stood up, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and looked at my mom. I took my hands and crossed my heart with them and said, '"I love you, Mom." I bent over and placed a kiss on Mom's forehead. I rubbed her face one more time and walked out of the living room.

I heard the door open and close, so I figured it was the funeral directors coming to take my mom. I didn't want to be there so I walked upstairs to the guest room, where I had been sleeping. Well, I wasn't sleeping there, I had spent so many nights by my mom's side, and just my suitcase was in there. The suitcase was a reminder of the conversation I had with my father before I left for Georgia. It wasn't a good one. I had just disappointed him again like I had in the past. I didn't suck it up and take my mother's death like a man. I cried, which means weakness in my dad's eyes. But I did feel weak and drained over the past day.

Still, I knew my mother would want me to stay strong and do what was required of me so I started calling people. I decided to first call the man that was closest to my mom other than me. I called my father.

He picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" I was speechless. I had to find the words.

"Dad, it's me," I whispered.

"Aww, Shawn, you sound like you're in trouble," he said in an annoyed tone. "What did you do now?"

Dude, did that piss me off. Angrily, I said, "No, Dad. I didn't do anything wrong I just lost my mother."

My dad grew silent. "Your mom died?" He repeated with no emotion.

"Yes!" I screamed, angrily. "She died, Dad! She died in my arms, ok?! " I put my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes. I then spoke much more quietly. "She went tonight, she fought really hard but you wouldn't know that would you, Dad?"

I didn't give my father a chance to answer. I slapped my cell phone together and put my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes hard; in an effort to stop the tears were forming. I was so angry and hurt. I needed my father more than ever and all he could do was react with no emotion. I just couldn't deal with him anymore nor did I want to. I rubbed my head as I had a huge headache. I went into the bathroom to get some aspirin. It was then that I peeked out the window and saw the funeral directors wheel my mom's body out. It just brought me more pain.

At that point, I realized I needed to call Gus. He was my best friend and he loved my mom as much as I did. I figured he should know. I called him and he picked him up on the first ring.

"Shawn…" was how he answered. "What---Is your mom---?"

I closed my eyes tightly, as I wanted to avoid what I was about to say. But I had to. "My mom died tonight."

I could hear Gus breathe deeply. "Man, I'm so sorry," he said. "How're you holding up?"

I knew that Gus wanted to know the truth. He's my best friend in the world and I knew that he wouldn't think I was a softie if I did admit my feelings.

"Not well," I admitted, sitting on the toilet, rubbing my head.

"I can imagine," he said. "Your mom was sick for a long time."

"Yeah, she was," I stammered. "She put up one heck of a fight." I felt the tears come to my eyes. "Listen, did, um, did my dad call you?" "

No, he didn't," Gus, responded. "Did you tell him?"

"Yes, I did," I responded, feeling the anger from earlier rise up within me. "And he thought I was in trouble. All he did was repeat what I said without any emotion. I don't think he even cares."

"Shawn, of course, he cares," Gus insisted. "You know your dad, he's probably in shock and disbelief. I mean, he was married to your mom for 20 years."

"Yeah, she gave that guy 20 years of her life and he treated her like crap," I retorted. "And even in death, you think he would show some concern."'

"Well, Shawn, let's be honest," Gus said. "Your dad never showed much emotion. He was never one to comfort anyone."

I felt more tears come down. I didn't even bother to wipe them away. "But I need it now, Gus," I breathed. "I need my father more than ever. I feel so alone. I've never felt so alone in my life."

"You're not alone, pal," he said. "And you're not gonna of through this alone because tomorrow morning, I'm on the first plane to Georgia."

I smiled. "Thanks, pal. That means a lot to me."

I could feel Gus smiling. "No problem, man. You do the same for me."

"Yea, I would," I said.

"Now, get some sleep, okay?" he said. "I'll call you when I land, all right?"

"All right," I said, my voice cracking. "Night."

"Night," he said.

We hung up and I decided to take a shower, since I couldn't remember the last time I cleaned myself. So, I took off my clothes and went into the shower, letting the hot water cascaded down me, taking away the soreness I had in my body. After a while I realized that I needed to shave. So, I took my razor, covered my face with shaving cream, and began to shave using my portable mirror. I was almost done when I cut myself. "Oww!" I cried. "Crap!" I took a washcloth and pressed it against the cut. Just then, I had a memory.

_**Flashback **_

_**I was seven years old, visiting my grandmother in Georgia. My cousins, Patrick and Timmy and I were using wakeboards. I had picked up the board and unbeknownst to me, I walked over a seashell. **_

_ "**Oww!!" I screamed. "Mommy!!!!!" **_

_**Within seconds, Mom and Dad ran over to my side. Dad just stood there while Mom bent over and examined my foot. There was a cut on the bottom of my foot and my foot was bleeding. **_

_"**Ohhhhh, sweetie," she said, giving me a warm hug. "You'll be fine. Let's just get some medicine on it." She scooped me up in her arms and carried me to where their towels were. **_

_ "**No, Abigail, Shawn doesn't need medicine," he said, standing in the way. "He'll be fine." **_

_**Mom walked around Dad and insisted, "Henry, he cut his foot and it could be infected." She placed me on the towel and took the first aid kit out. She dabbed some rubbing alcohol on my cut, which made it worst. **_

_"**Shawn, knock it off," Dad said, when he heard me cry. "Maybe if you would have been paying attention, you wouldn't have gotten hurt." **_

_**With that, my dad walked away, shaking his head in disbelief. **_

_**I felt sad ad tears went down my face. **_

_"**Ahhh, sweetie, don't cry," she comforted, as she placed a band-aid on my foot. **_

_ "**Daddy was so mean to me," I said. **_

_**My mom placed me in her lap and rocked me in her arms. "Shawn, your father doesn't mean to be. He just has a hard time showing his feelings. But he loves you." **_

_ "**Do you love me?" I asked. **_

_**Mom smiled and said, "Yes, baby. I do with all my heart." **_

_ **End of flashback **_

I smiled at that memory. All my life, I never had to wonder if my family loved me. My mom always told me she loved every phone call, every visit, always ended with "I love you, Shawn" and me. She always gave me encouragement. Whenever I called her with a problem I had about women, my dad, or my fake psychic detective business, she always told me, "Don't give up, sweetie. You were put here to do something good. I believe in you."

Right now, I needed her to tell me she believed in me. I needed her to tell me not to give up. But she wasn't here. She was gone. She was gone. And there was nothing I could do about it. The one person, other than Gus, that believed in me was gone. I didn't know what to do. I was so overwhelmed that I broke down and cried. I just placed my back against, slide down, and cried my eyes out. In the midst of my tears, I did something I hadn't done since I was little and something that me, a fake psychic would never do. I prayed, "God, help me, please help me."


	4. The Sweetest Dream

Somehow, I managed to wash myself and get ready for bed. I settled into my bed and closed my eyes. An hour had gone by and I still couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I had the image of my mother laying on the gurney. I tossed and turned for hours until I finally went to sleep.

I woke up to the sun shining through the curtains. I sat up and stretch my arms. I could smell pancakes, sausages, coffee, and pineapples!!!

"Shawn!! Shawn Michael Spencer! Breakfast!!" It was my mom!! My mom was alive and she was making my favorite breakfast!!!

Quickly, I threw on my bathrobe and ran downstairs. I was so happy to see my mother. I walked into the living room and saw my mother………only she wasn't alive………..she was lying on the floor…………dead.

"Mom!!!" I screamed. I opened my eyes and shot up in my bed. I took a moment to look at my surroundings. I was in the guest room of my mom's house. The sun was shining brightly through the blue curtains, curtains that my mom had made years ago. They were blowing a cool, ocean breeze. I sat up in my bed and closed my eyes, feeling the breeze on my face. It felt so nice, so calming, which is just what I needed. I needed some calmness in my life, especially with what happened last night…with my mother dead.

My mother was dead. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. It didn't seem real. It didn't feel real. It felt like a dream and a bad one at that. As I lay back on my pillows and pulled the red flannel blanket over me, I kept thinking that I would hear my mother call me for breakfast. I figured she would come up and jump on me, yelling at me for sleeping too late. My mom always got up early. She loved getting up early and getting things done. And I wouldn't have that. I would never have that pleasant wake-up call from her.

KNOCK KNOCK

I sat up, curious at who would be at the house at this time in the morning. I figured it probably would be Nicole, wanting to bring the IV and hospital bed back so I got up threw on some jeans, pale blue collared shirt (I had slept in boxers and a white T-shirt), and went down stairs.

I opened the door to find Gus standing on the porch, with a suitcase and a garment bag draped on top of it. He looked at me with a sadness that I had never seen in him. He didn't say a word. He just reached out and gave me a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Shawn," he whispered, patting my back. "I'm really sorry, man."

"I know, thank you," I breathed, trying to hold the tears back.

We broke our hug but Gus placed his hands on my shoulders. "She was a beautiful person," she said.

I swallowed hard and said, "Yeah, she was. She really was."

I helped Gus bring in his bags, which we set in the basement. We walked back up to the living room, where the hospital bed and other items still remained.

Gus looked at me and said, "Have you eaten yet?"

I shook my head. "I have no appetite."

"Shawn, you really should eat something," he said.

I looked at him and responded, "I can't. I just can't eat anything. Plus, I got a lot of stuff to do. I got to be at the funeral home in an hour and I need to get my mom's clothes together."

Gus looked up at me and nodded understandingly. "Want some help?" He asked.

I gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, that would be great," I said.

We walked up to my mother's room. I stood in the doorway and just looked at the room. Man, I had forgotten how pretty it was, how charming, and comforting it was. My mom had designed it herself and it had her name written all over it. The walls were white with a pink rose pattern. The bed was queens-size with a pink and blue linens and bedspread. There was a sitting area that had two white chairs and a round table. On the table laid my mom's Bible, still opened and an unfinished knitted quilt. I stood in the doorway, scared to go in.

Gus looked at me. He knew my fear. He wrapped his arms around me and said, "Shawn, it's okay. It's okay to be in your mom's room."

I took a deep breath and stepped in the room. It felt very different to be in my mom's room without her in it. But I needed to focus on finding my mom some sensible clothes, so, Gus & I stood in her walk-in closet and leaf through everything. A half hour later, we were still looking through stuff. But then, I came across a particular outfit that was linked to a special memory I had of my mother. It was a nice dress, long, with short sleeves, white with pink roses all over it. It was the dress she wore when we went to the baptism of my cousin Kelly's baby boy, Jonathan.

_**Flashback **_

_**It was such a nice day, the whole family gathered around, cooing and awing over the baby. But what I remembered it being so nice was seeing my mother holding the baby and singing to him a song that had special meaning to her.**_

_**A dream is a wish your heart makes  
When you're fast asleep  
In dreams you lose your heartaches  
Whatever you wish for, you keep  
Have faith in your dreams and someday  
Your rainbow will come smiling thru  
No matter how your heart is grieving  
If you keep on believing  
the dream that you wish will come true**_

"Hey, Mom," I said.

"Hello, sweetness," she responded.

I sat down next to my mom and said; "I haven't heard that song in a long, long time. Forgotten how nice it sounded."

"Me too," she said. "You know, I sang this song to you all the time when you were little."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "I always thought that this was a bit girlie."

"You know why I sang this to you?" She asked, bouncing the baby on her knee.

"Hmmm?" I asked.

"Because it is all about dreams," she said. "It's all about dreaming, that when you dream, all your pain goes away. All the pain is replaced with hope and joy and happiness. And the promise that if you keep dreaming, your dreams will come true."

I thought about that. I really didn't have dreams. I was just living my life. But my mom always had dreams.

"Mom, remember when I was 13 and I asked you about giving up your dream to be an actress and a singer?" I recalled. "Did you really mean what you said, that the dream of me coming into the world was better than becoming an actress?"

My mom looked at me with tears in her eyes. She took my hand while still holding the baby. "Shawn Michael, the dream of you coming into my life was the sweetest dream I ever had and the most far fetched. See, you know how tough it was for me to have a baby."

"Yeah, I know," I recalled, sadly, thinking of baby Rachel.

"Well, what you didn't know was that when I was pregnant with you," she explained. "Something happened. I was seven months pregnant and I was at home, cleaning the dishes, when my water broke. I called your dad and he took me to the hospital. What happen was that I went into labor. Well, um, you really wanted to get out of me. Well, the doctor tried to stop the labor but you were born. You were 6 lbs. They wouldn't even let me hold you. They took you into the ICU and they said that the next 24 hours were critical. I remember going to the ward, where there were all preemies, and in the middle, you were in this tiny incubator. You had tubes in your body and you were so small. I remember touching you. Your body seemed so fragile and I was so scared. I knew that some preemies didn't make it. And even I thought you wouldn't make it. But then, something inside me changed.

"I was holding you and feeding you the bottle that had my breast milk. And I looked down at you and saw your beautiful face. You looked so scared, it seemed that you were saying with your face, 'Mommy, help me. Please, don't let me die.' And I decided right then and there, that I was not going to give up on you because I wanted with all my heart to be a mother. And I refused to give up on this dream. So, I prayed and prayed and dreamed and dreamed. And then, one day the doctor came in and said that you had gained enough weight to come home. One day, sitting in your nursery, holding you in my arms, I broke into tears and started singing that song. A dream is a wish your heart makes and my heart made a wish to have a baby. You. You were the greatest wish and the sweetest dream. So, that is why I sing to you the song and that is why I call you sweetness."

Tears in my eyes, I hugged my mother. I had never felt more loved and special then I did at that moment.

That is what it was all about for my mom. Even if at that point in time I didn't have dreams, whenever I found them, she wanted me to believe in my dreams no matter what people say. She wanted me to have faith in myself and not give up. And right now, I wanted to give up. I so wanted to give up. With my mom dying, me planning the funeral, finding a dress for her to be buried in, dealing with my father's feelings, was all too much for me to take. I couldn't take all the pain any more. I took my mother's dress and held up to my face. I smelled it, just to get some of my mom's scent. I needed her. I needed her so badly. I needed her presence, her encouragement. I needed her to give me a hug and a kiss and cut me up some pineapple and tell me everything will be all right. I squeezed the dress so tightly and broke down. Gus hung up the dress he'd been holding and sat beside me. He wrapped his arms around me. I rested my head on Gus's shoulder and cried my eyes out. I cried the hardest I ever cried. I sobbed uncontrollably. My shoulders shook, my hands shook, my whole body shook. My throat began to ache and my eyes were beginning to itch. But I didn't care.

"It's ok, Shawn," whispered Gus, rubbing my back and handing me a box of tissues. "Let it out, man. Just let it out."

I sobbed so hard, I could batrely speak. "I can,'t do this, Gus," I stammared. "I can't handle all this. It's just too much. It's all too much. I'm, I'm not strong enough. I thought I was.but I'm not. I'm just not."

Gus just kept rubbing my back and let my cry for a minute. After a few minutes, he said, "Yes, you are. You are, Shawn. You may not see that, but you are very strong. You have your mother's strength, you have always had your mother's strength."

"I don't feel it right now," I admitted. "And I need it more than ever before."

"You will feel it," he said. "You will feel it." And that's all he said. He just held me and let me cry. After a while, Gus released me from his embrace and I walked into the bathroom. I was taken aback from my appearance from the reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen. My face looked worn. I turned on the sink, bent over, and splashed some warm water on my face. I looked in the mirror and found that I looked a lot better. But I didn't feel better.

Despite that, I needed to get a move on and go to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I told Gus that I had decided to bury my mom in this dress.

Gus nodded in argeement. He looked at the dress and said, "This is very pretty. I remember seeing the pictures of her in this dress at your baby cousin's bapitism. Do you think it'll still fit her?"

"Yeah, it will. My mom was very healthy, ate right, and exercised, and she still got freaking cancer and died!!!" I screamed as I threw the dress.

Gus looked shocked, even scared a little. He had never seen me like this. I was always a funny, cheerful, laid back dude. I never raised my voice like this. He was so freaked out, he took a few steps back. Then, I felt so guilty, Gus had held me as I cried. I had to express my anger in front of him like that..

"Dude, I'm so so sorry," I said, a lump growing in my throat. "I didn't mean to get mad."

"No, no, Shawn, you have every right to be upset," he said, rubbing my shoulder. "You lost your mom."

"I know, but I never got this way before," I said.

"Shawn, it's okay," he gave me a hug.

I returned the hug. "Gus, we've been hugging a lot lately," I said.

"Yeah, well," he said with a laugh. "Don't get use to it."

I laughed for the first time in days. Leave it to Gus to put things in persepctive.


	5. Broken Heart

Once again, I write about Shawn turning to a Higher Power. I apologieze if I offend anyone. And again, I do not own the characters of Psych or the song "Prayer"..

Gus and I went through some more clothes. After a while, I decided to bury my mother in that pink and white dress. I paired it with a long-sleeved, pink cardigan sweater so that it could cover my mother's arms, for they were covered with many bruises. I placed them in the bottom of a shopping bag. On top, I laid a brown-haired wig (I didn't want my family to see my mom bald), some undergarments, and stockings. I took the bag and Gus and I drove in his rental car to the funeral home. At first, I wanted to make the arrangements by myself but Gus insisted on coming. In the end, I'm glad he did, because I really couldn't do this alone. We sat down with the funeral director and I told him my mom's final wishes. My mom and I had had long, painful talks about this but Mom finally made the decisions. She wanted to be laid out and have a funeral service at the same church she grew up in and still attended. Then, she wanted to be cremated and have her ashes scattered over the ocean during the sunset. She wanted me to keep the cremation as private as possible. She hinted that she wanted my dad to be there. I didn't tell my dad about my mom 's wishes. My dad didn't even want to visit my mom when she was sick. How could I expect him to come help me bury her? I pushed those concerns out of my head. We planned for a wake to be on a Friday. Afterwards, the cremation would take place and we would have the funeral service at church the next day. I would scattered the ashes that night at sunset, playing my mom's favorite music in background. I asked my mom why she didn't want to be buried in the family plot.

She said, "Shawn Michael, whenever I'm by the ocean, I feel a serenity that I don't feel anywhere else. The ocean is so calm and peaceful. No matter what on going on in my life, I step by the ocean and I am at peace. And I want to feel that way forever."

That was so much my mother. Just wanting peace. Gus and I thanked the funeral director and left the funeral home. We then drove to the First Baptist Church of Savannah, where Mom attended services ever since she was a baby. I met with her pastor, Reverend Kincaid. During the hour, we went over what Bible verses my mom wanted read and what music she wanted sung. By the time Gus and I felt the church, it was 12:30. I then realized that I needed to pick up my uncle Tom and his wife, Suzie. Gus offered to pick them up so I could have some time to myself and take a break. I decided to take a walk to the beach and just think about things.

I made my way to the beach in less than 20 minutes. I walked onto the beach and sat on the sand, looking at ocean. Low tide was coming in and the waves were nice and small. I looked around to survey the activities. Children were playing boogie boards, trying to catch a great waves, women were sitting on beach chairs, getting some sun, teen boys and girls were having a chicken fight in the water. All of them may have been doing different things, but they were all smiling and laughing. It was awesome to see all these people having fun, enjoying themselves. I actually smiled at those people and then, I felt sad and envious. I wanted to be happy and laughing and enjoying myself, but I wasn't. I was in agony, I was in pain, and I wondered if I would ever feel like my old, cheerful, fun-loving self. However, sitting on the beach wasn't gonna help my find the answer, so I decide to take a walk along the water's edge. I took off my beige sandals, cuffed up my jeans, and started walking. I didn't have a destination, I just walked. As I walked, I felt the crashing waves hit my ankles and feet. I stopped and focused the water surrounding my feet. It felt so nice and cool and refreshing. And I loved it. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy this feeling. But then, I stopped. I suddenly felt confused. Should I really be enjoying myself when my mom was dead? I was about to think when I heard a female voice say, "It's beautiful."

I turned around to see the face that paired with the voice. And that face. The face that belonged to my ex-girlfriend, Katie.

I smiled and breathed, "Katie"

Katie smiled sadly at me, walked towards me, and gave me a hug. I didn't say anything, I didn't do anything. I just let her hold me. I let her myself feel her hands rub my back. I, in turn, wrapped my arms around her. At first, it felt unusual to touch her. It had been three weeks since I last saw her, three weeks since we last held each other. Man, I almost forgot what it felt like to have her in my arms. It felt nice, really nice. We pulled away from each other a little bit, but Katie held my hands and caressed my face. Then , in a soft, sweet voice, she said. "I'm so sorry about your mother, Shawn."

The sweetness of her voice and her touch made me get teary all over again.

I hugged her tightly and said, "Thank you., Katie. Thank you so much for saying that." We parted and she rubbed my face again.

"Let's talk a walk, ok?" she asked.

I agreed and we walked along the beach.

"So this is where you spent so many vacations?" she asked me.

"Yeah, every summer from the time I was six months old until I was 19, I spent here in Georgia with my mom and her family," I said, looking down at the sand.

"Your mom was raised here?" she asked.

"Yeah, she was born and raised in Savannah," I explained. "She, um, inherited the house from her mom, my grandmother. My grandmother had this house forever but she couldn't take care of it and we just let the house go. When my grandmother died, my mom inherited the house and moved back to Georgia and took all her savings and remodeled the house."

"It looks nice, Gus & I drove by it when we left the airport," she explained.

We kept walking for a while. I was deep in thought.

"Shawn, what are you thinking about?" she asked.

"My mom," I said. "It's been only a day and I miss her. I miss her so much, it, it," I couldn't finish what I was about to say. It was like the words were stuck inside of me. I didn't have the strength to say it.

It was then that I felt Katie slip her hand in mine. She took my hand and stroked it.

From that gentle touch, I found the strength to say the words. "It hurts, Katie," I said, my voice cracking. "It hurts so much. It's almost like, it's a physical pain, right in here," I pointed to my chest.

"It's your heart breaking," she said. "You have a broken heart."

I stood there and thought about those words.

"Broken heart," I repeated. "Man, I can't remember the last time I had that."

"You have," she said, smiling at me. "We've all had."

"How do you make it better?" I asked.

"Well, in the case of your mom, thinking about all the wonderful, beautiful memories you had with her," Katie explained. "All the things you did together, from the time you were a little boy till now. And probably the most important thing that will help you is that your mother is always with you."

I stood still and asked, "Always with me? That sounds so, so…"

"Spiritual?" Katie asked.

"Yes, it does," I laughed. "But, that was my mom. She always believed in something higher. That's what got her through the tough times. Her faith. Faith is something that I don't have. Something I never had."

Katie took my face in her hands and said, "I know the place where you can find it."

"Where?" I asked.

"Let me take you to a friend of mine, his name is Paul." She said.

We walked to a place further down the beach to see a group of people sitting on beach chairs. Standing in front of them, was a group of musicians and singers walking onto a makeshift stage. They were tuning up guitars and doing sound checks. Katie and I sat in two empty beach chairs.

"Katie, where are we exactly?" I asked.

"We are at an outdoor concert," she responded.

I gave her a puzzled look. "On the beach? In the middle of the day?"

"Yes, my friend Paul and his band have concerts on the beach, twice a day," she said.

I thought it was kind of strange. Why was Katie taking me to a concert when I was in the middle of planning my mother's funeral? Then, I got my answer. The band started playing a song that was on the CD my mother listened to.

_**Nothing is impossible  
Nothing's out of reach  
All good things will come to those  
Who faithfully believe**_

When you see a mountain  
Standing is your way  
Known that it will move for you   
If only you will pray

'Cause prayer can move a mountain   
Prayer can stop the doubt  
And prayer can calm the raging heart of unbelief  
For I know when I go on my knees  
God will move for me  
And prove what He can do  
Through prayer 

Somewhere there's a miracle  
Waiting 'round the bend  
How He's blessed you in the past  
He'll do it once again

You're not forgotten  
Or been turned away  
The Lord's about to move for you  
If only you will pray

I know that He won't leave me all alone  
The Lord has kept me safe till now  
He'll show me when  
He'll show me how  
And I know that I can't make it on my own  
But with the power of God in me  
There's nothing great that I can't be  
No mountain high, no valley low  
Will change my mind 'cause this I know

Move, move, right now  
Holy Spirit...

_**That song was my mother's life. She always prayed. She always had faith in God and herself, even when life was hard and her cancer was taking its toll on her, she had faith. I never saw her voice any doubts, even when she was at the end. **_

FLASHBACK

I remembered one visit 2 months ago. My mom's condition had worsened. The doctors told her that they were going to stop chemo treatments, since they were doing nothing to help her. I remember standing in the hospital hallway, hearing the news and seeing my mother, lying in her hospital bed, sleeping with the IV hooked up to her, the medicine dripping into her body. It was then that I realized that my mother was going to die. It was no longer an "if". She was indeed going to die. And it cut me in two. After the doctors left, I walked into the room and sat by her side, and took her hand, careful not to hurt her or wake her up. As I held her hand, I rubbed it delicately, seeing how fragile it was, it was like a skeleton, all bony and light. It freaked me out. But what scared me more was the fact that due to the cancer getting worse, I wouldn't be able to hold my mom's hand much longer. Before I could let the tears come down, my mom stirred and woke up.

"Shawn, sweetie, how long have I been asleep?" she asked.

"Um, for about 20 minutes," I answered, giving her a slip of water.

"What did the doctors say?" She asked.

I closed my eyes tightly and swallowed hard. I took and deep breath and whispered, "God, help me." I took my mom's hand again and said, "Um, Mom, the doctors said that, um, the chemo treatments and surgery aren't working. The cancer is getting worse and worse and the doctor feels that we should just let nature take it's course."

My mother closed her eyes and looked out the window. Then, I heard her start to cry and sob. And that is what really cut me in two. Since my mom told her about her diagnosis, I had never seen her cry. She was so tough and strong and positive. Whatever came her way, she never allowed it to bring her down. And now, I just gave her the most devastating news. I, her own son, told her that she should just give up. Maybe that is what made her cry. And because she was crying, I found myself starting to cry. But I stopped myself. I didn't want to make my mother feel any worse than she already did so I rubbed my eyes and sat on the bed next to her.

I placed a warm hand on my mom's shoulder and said, "Hey, Mom. I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't---"

I was cut off by my mom giving me a huge hug. She held me in a tight embrace, as if she was depending on me to keep her sane.

I held her close, relieved that she wasn't mad at me. After a few minutes, I looked into my mother's eyes and said, "Mom, I'm so sorry. I was just telling you what the doctors told me. I didn't mean to----"

"Sweetness, it's all right," she said, softly. She caressed my face with her delicate hands. "It was going to come out sooner or later. I'm just glad you told me." She smiled at me warmly and kissed my hands.

I looked at her and asked, "So, what happens now?"

My mom just smiled at me and responded by ordering me to get the wheelchair. I wheeled the chair to my mom's bedside and helped her into the chair.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked as I wheeled the IV unit to be next to her.

"To chapel," she responded. "There is something I need to do."

"Mom, are you sure you're up to go to chapel?" I asked, giving my mom the IV unit to hold.

"Shawn, I need to go, we both do," she said.

I just nodded and wheeled her to the chapel. We entered the chapel to find that we were the only ones there. I wheeled my mom near a pew and sat beside her. We sat in silence for while, listening to the organ music being played. Then, the organist stopped playing the music and put on a CD. That is when I heard that song.

_**Nothing is impossible  
Nothing's out of reach  
All good things will come to those  
Who faithfully believe**_

Those words seemed so unrealistic to me. I just didn't believe them. Nothing is impossible? Nothing's out of reach? What was impossible was my mom getting better; what was out of reach was my mom not being sick any more. And I knew, deep in my gut, that wasn't going to happen. And my mom believed, she believed in God. She prayed several times a day, after she woke up, before she went to sleep, before every meal. She read her Bible everyday, went to church every Sunday. She was so faithful to her God and this is her payback? What, God considers dying of cancer a good thing?

I didn't say this to my mom. I couldn't. I had already upset her with the news earlier; I just didn't want to upset her more. I just listened to the music.

_**When you see a mountain  
Standing is your way  
Known that it will move for you  
If only you will pray **_

_**Those were another group of words that I couldn't comprehend. My mom's cancer was more than a mountain. It was one of the most difficult things she's ever had to endure. So, what is she going to do? Say, "Cancer, take a hike, dude" and the cancer will just leave? Unfortunately, no. I don't even know why prayer would help. **_

But my mother knew. Suddenly, I heard her pray.

_**Our Father in heaven,  
hallowed be your name.  
Your Kingdom come,   
your will be done,  
on earth as in heaven  
Give us today our daily bread.  
Forgive us our sins,  
as we forgive those who sin against us.  
Lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from evil.  
For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours.  
Now and for ever. Amen**_

I turned to see my mother, eyes closed, head bowed, and hands folded. She prayed that prayer four more times. Then, she opened her eyes, turned to look at me, and said, "Pray with me, Shawn."

I turned away and said, "No, Mom. It's too late for that now."

My mom took whatever strength she had and slapped me upside the head. I grabbed my head and whispered, loudly, "Oww!!! Gee, Mom, what was that for?"

"For being like your father," she said, firmly. Then, she got silent. She looked at the altar, which was covered with candles and big, open Bible. I saw tears in her eyes and immediately felt worse.

I took my mom's hand and said in my softest voice, said, "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Mom took a breath and ignored my apology. "I just thought that you would take after your father only in being observant, not in being an atheist."

I was taken aback by that comment. "Mom, I'm not an atheist," I said.

"Then, why won't you pray with me?" She asked, looking at me more intensely.

I took a breath and told the truth. 'Because it doesn't seem like it's worth it. Mom, you're dying. The doctors are stopping chemo treatments because they're not helping. Why even bother?"

My mom smiled at me and said, "Because the power of prayer is so strong. Shawn, prayer can do so many things. It can comfort someone, it can change a person's life, and it can heal someone. Do you know what prayer has done for me?"

I shook my head.

"It's given me strength," she said, smiling. "It's given me the courage to fight, to endure all the chemo and surgeries and pain. Prayer has given me the strength to wake up every morning and to see the sunrise. And most of all, prayer gave me peace."

"How?" I asked.

"It gave me peace, son," she said, grabbing my hands. "It gave me peace that when I die, I would go to a better place. Prayer gave me peace that when I die, you will be okay. You'd be able to be happy and strong despite what was happening, despite me being gone."

I sat back and thought about it. I never thought about prayer as a way of strength. Maybe because I haven't done it in awhile. So, maybe I should try.

So, for the first time in my life, I asked my mother if we could pray together.

She smiled at me and said, "Of course.'

We held hands and prayed the same prayer she prayed before.

_**Our Father in heaven,  
hallowed be your name.  
Your Kingdom come,   
your will be done,  
on earth as in heaven  
Give us today our daily bread.  
Forgive us our sins,  
as we forgive those who sin against us.  
Lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from evil.  
For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours.  
Now and forever. Amen**_

My mom was right!! When we finished the prayer, I did feel a small amount of peace. Despite all the pain and suffering, that small amount of peace let me know that everything would be all right. Eventually.

END OF FLASHBACK

I wish I felt that peace right now. All the events that had happened in the past few days had taken away my peace and strength, with the exception of the brief moment in the ocean. However, as the band played that same song that I had heard in the hospital chapel, I felt the urge to pray. Not anything special or fancy. I just bowed my head, closed my eyes, and prayed silently. I prayed for strength to get through the next few days with the funeral and taking care of my mother's business. I also needed courage to deal with my father. As I prayed, I felt Katie's hand on my head. She was praying out loud for me. Suddenly, I felt another hand on my shoulder. After I finished praying, I opened my eyes and saw a huge group of people standing around me. They all had stretched their hands towards me. I found that weird at first. I mean, no one had ever done that to me before. Plus, theses people did not know my mom or me. But, somehow they knew I was hurting. They knew I had lost someone. And they wanted to make sure that I had strength, peace, and courage to deal with everything. So, they asked God for me. And I was grateful for that. I stood up and thanked everyone. Katie's friend, Paul, was one of the people praying for me. As the group separated to go home, Paul and I spoke for a while. He didn't ask me questions about my life or career. He didn't preach to me or demand that I become a "holier than thou" dude. He just let know that he and Katie had been friends for a while and that she had told him about my mom. Before he left, he told me that he would continue to keep me in his thoughts and prayers. I had heard those words a lot lately and would continue to hear those words in the coming days. I knew I would doubt the sincerity of those words; however with Paul, I didn't have to. I knew he would be thinking of me. . I thanked Paul and he gave me a hug. Then, he excused himself to pack up the band's equipment. Katie and I met up with Gus, Uncle Tom, and Aunt Suzie for dinner at the beach house. After our delicious pasta supper, Katie and I sat on the front porch and watched the stars come out. It was then that I felt my broken heart start to heal a tiny bit. However, I knew that it wouldn't be fully healed overnight. And that was okay with me.


	6. It's okay to cry

_**Oh I wonder what God was thinking ,when he created you.**__**  
**__**I wonder if He knew everything I would need, **__**  
**__**Because he made all my dreams come true. **__**  
**__**When God made you, He must have been thinking about me**_.

That night, Katie left to go back to the hotel with my aunt and uncle. Before she left, she gave me a hug. "Get some sleep, all right?" She said.

I nodded and said, "I will." She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I smiled as I thought of that. Katie had the softest lips, which were perfect for kissing. I had forgotten how nice her kisses were. Part of me wanted to kiss her but I couldn't. I knew Katie very well and she would want me to focus on my mom. So, I did.

After the three of them went back to the hotel, Gus and I got ready for bed. I changed into my pajamas quickly and went to my mom's room. I didn't want to go but I felt in my heart I needed to. I walked into the room and sat on her bed. I grabbed a pink pillow and held it to my chest, leaning back onto the other pillows.

"Shawn! Shawn, where are you?" Gus asked.

"I'm in my mom's room," I answered.

Gus came up and asked, "What's up?"

"Tomorrow's the wake and my dad hasn't shown up yet," I said. " I doubt that he's even coming."

Gus sat beside me on the bed. "Don't be so negative, Shawn." He said. "He may come."

"I don't think so," I said, sadly. "This just reaffirms the fact that my mother meant nothing to him and after all she did for him, you know? 20 years of love, compassion, cleaning, cooking."

I stood up and paced the room, pillow in hand. "I just can't believe him. When I need him the most, when my mom needed him the most, he just lets us down." I closed my eyes and rubbed them. "I just feel so abandoned."

Gus walked over to me and put a hand on my shoudler. "Shawn, you're not abandoned. You got me, your aunt, uncle, Nicole, and Katie." I smiled at the thought of Katie.

"Katie, my angel," I said.

Gus laughed and said, "Angel? I never heard you refer to a woman as an 'angel."

"The way she helped me this afternoon, it feels like she was sent from above," I said, smiling.

"Are you going to get back together with her?" Gus asked.

"I haven't really thought about that," I admitted. "All I could think about was how good it felt to be with her again. How amazing it was to have her pray for me and take me to that Christian music concert. How awesome it felt to have her care for me again."

"She's always cared for you," Gus said. "The question is, do you care for her?"

"Yes, I do, very much" I admitted. "Despite all the problems we've had, I still love her."

"What exactly happened between you two?" Gus asked.

I sat on the floor and said, "A lot of things. She wants to get married and start a family. I just not sure if I'm ready for that."

Gus looked at me critically. "Shawn, you're 30 years old," he said. "You've been dating Katie for a year, which might I add is the longest relationship you've ever had. And she's a good girl. She cares about you, she supports you, she loves you, and she is always there for you. That's a quality girl right there."

"I know that, Gus. I've known that since day one," I said.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked

"Dude, I don't know," I said

Don't tell you're still bummed about the fact that Katie won't sleep with you?" Gus asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, Gus, I'm not," I said.

"Ok, so what gives?" he asked. I explained to Gus the situation. Early in our relationship, Katie told me that she had made a commitment to wait until she was married to have sex. At first, I was taken aback. I had never met a woman who had done that. I didn't sleep with every woman I met but I wasn't celibate. Katie was different. She told me that sex was a beautiful and powerful act that should be only shared between married people. I told her how much I loved and respected her that she was the only woman that I wanted to be with. She stated her reasons time and time again. With time, I finally understood her commitment. In addition, I got to know Katie on deeper level and that had more meaning to me than anything in the world. That is what made me fall so madly and deeply in love with her, more than any other woman in the world. I did want to spend the rest of my life with her but I was scared. I guess I was scared that I couldn't be the husband that Katie deserved or that I would get divorced like my parents. But I never told this to Katie so I made up some lame excuse. And with every excuse, she grew more doubtful of my feelings for her. As a result, we started fighting and we broke up. I thought I would be better off, no girlfriend, no responsibilities. But I wasn't. I was miserable. I missed Katie so much and seeing her on the beach brought back all those feelings. But I was confused.

Was it real love I had for her or was it my grief? I asked Gus about this.

"I'm not sure, Shawn," he responded. "It seem like you and Katie have a lot to talk about. But I think you really should focus on getting through the next few days and then, talk to Katie, with a clear head."

"You're right, Gus," I agreed.

"Well, good night, buddy," he said.

"Good night, dude," I said.

_**DREAM SEQUENCE **_

_**Gus left to go the bed but stayed in my mother's room. I just couldn't leave. I wanted to sleep in her bed, just like I did when I was a little boy when I had a scary dream. I guess in a sense, I wanted to feel her comfort cause I knew I would feel pain for the next few days. So, I laid on the bed and fell asleep. Soon, I was dreaming. I found myself standing in the doctor's office. I saw a little boy, wearing pants and a CHIPS T-shirt sitting on the bed, waiting to get a shot. As I walked closer, I saw the little boy was me. Standing a few feet away was the doctor, preparing a needle to be put into me. It was that time for my shots and I was scared. **_

_**I heard myself say, "Mommy, I don't want to get a shot. It's gonna hurt.**_

_" **My mother was standing right beside me like she had always had. She gave me a smile and ruffled my hair. "Don't worry, Shawn. It'll be all right." **_

_**Just then, I saw the doctor coming towards me with the needle, aimed at my left arm. I saw fear rise up in my face. I broke down and threw myself in my mom's arms and screamed, "Mommy, I'm scared!!!!" **_

_**Mommy didn't say a word. She just let me cry. She held me in her arms and rubbed my back. After a while, she pilled me away and said, "Sweetness, I know you're scared. I am, too." **_

_**I pulled back to reveal my tear-stained face. "Why are you scared?" I stammered. **_

_"**Because I hate seeing you get shots," she said, wiping away my tears with a tissue. "I hate seeing you hurt. But, baby boy, you need to do this. You need to get these shots." **_

_"**Why?" I asked. **_

_"**Because you will get very sick if you don't," she said. "And if you get sick, I will be very sad." **_

_**And I heard the sadness in my mom's voice and saw it in her eyes. It was then that I decided I needed to be brave. But I knew I couldn't do it alone. So, I asked, "Mommy, can you hold my hand?" **_

_**Mommy smiled and said, "Yes, sweetness." **_

_**She put my hand in hers and the doctor placed the needle in my arms. As I felt the needle go in me, I squeezed Mommy's arm and never let go. **_

_**When it was all done and the doctor had put a Band-aid on my arm, Mommy said, "Shawn Michael, I'm very proud of you. You were so brave."**_

_ **I smiled and said, "I was brave because you were with me, Mommy." **_

_**Mommy smiled and hugged me. I stood in that doctor's office, marveling at the love and strength between my younger self and my mother. I truly felt brave whenever my mom was around. I felt I could face anything with my mom by my side. And I was so grateful for that. I took that bravery as a sign of comfort and turned over in my bed, hugging the pillow as closely and as tightly as I had seen my younger self hold my mom's hand. I wanted to continue feeling that bravery, so I held onto the pillow. **_

_**Suddenly, the dream changed. It had become more of a nightmare. I found myself standing at the end of what was a cold, dark room. As I walked down, I saw that there were flowers lining the walls. I saw people, some that were very familiar to me and some that I didn't know well. When I made eye contact, they started crying and sobbing. I heard some of them speak. They were saying, "That poor boy", "Poor Shawn, his mother was so sick." I knew where I was. My mother's wake. Then, I saw it far in the distance. A coffin. A big, black coffin. I knew who was in that coffin. My mother. My beautiful, sweet, angelic mother was in that coffin. She was in that coffin because she had died.**_

_ **As my eyes fixated on that coffin, I heard Gus's voice. "Shawn, you need to go to the coffin," he said in a deep voice. "You need to pay your respects to your mother." **_

_**I nodded my head and said, "Come with me." **_

_**Gus nodded and smiled. We walked towards the coffin. **_

_**When we finally got there, I realized that I needed to open the coffin. I needed to see my mother. I was about to ask Gus to help me open the coffin when I found that Gus was gone. I turned around and saw that everyone was gone. **_

_**Everyone except for my father, who was standing right behind me. At first, I was relieved that he was there. I ran to him and said, "Dad, I'm so glad you're here. I can't----" **_

_"**Sorry, kid," he said, seriously. "I'm not gonna help you with this one." **_

_**I stood there in shock. 'What?" I stammared. "What are you talking about? Dad, I need you. Mom needs you." **_

_"**Mom's dead, Shawn," he said. "How could she need me?" **_

_"**I need you, dad," I pleaded, my voice cracking. "I need you to help me deal with this. I'm not strong enough." **_

_"**Well, you better get strong, son" he said. "You need to fend for yourself.**_

_" **With that, my father left. I called after him. "Dad!!! Dad, come back!!! Dad!! I need you!!" I yelled for as long as I could. But then, my father vanished. My eyes were filled with tears and a lump was growing in my throat. I was so frustrated by what was happening. I was abandoned. I was all alone. I turned to face my mother's coffin and placed both hands on the coffin. Then, I lost it. I cried my eyes out. I couldn't take it any more. I felt so lost. I felt so scared. I felt so afraid. I just cried. In the midst of my tears, I yelled out. "Oh God, why aren't You helping me?" I stammared. "Why am I all alone? Why isn't my mom here when I need her? Why won't my dad help me? God, I can't do this!!! I can't. I can't." **_

_"**What can't you do?" asked a gentle voice. **_

_**I turned around to see the younger version of myself, wearing that same outfit from the doctor's office. I kneed down to make eye contact. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and answered, "I can't open the coffin." **_

_**Since I was face-to-face with my youngr self, I called him, "Little Shawn". He looked at me with such curiosity. "Well, ask Mommy to help you. She always helps me." **_

_**A tear went down my face as I responded, "I want so bad to ask Mommy to help me but I can't." **_

_"**Why?" little Shawn asked. **_

_"**Because she is in the coffin," I responded, a lump growing in my throat. **_

_**Little Shawn's eyes filled with fear. "Why is she in the coffin?" He stammered. **_

_**More tears came down my face as I answered, "Because she's dead." **_

_**His eyes filled with tears. Sadly, he asked, "Why did Mommy die?" **_

_**My heart broke looking into Little Shawn's sad face. **_

_"**She was sick, dude," I said, sitting down. **_

_"**Well, couldn't she take medicine? Couldn't have had gone to the doctor for a shot?" He asked. **_

_**Sorrowfully, I shook my head. "No, little dude," I whispered. "No, she couldn't." **_

_**Little Shawn bowed his head in sorrow. **_

_**I looked closer to see a tear coming down his face. I was filled with such compassion for him. I reached out and put a hand on his arm. When I touched him, he turned away. I didn't want to force comfort, so I let him be. **_

_ **Little Shawn asked, "Is she in heaven? "Yes, she is," I answered. "Is she going to be an angel?" She asked. **_

_**I smiled at that wonderful thought. I responded, "Yes, she is gonna be angel, dude. She's going to be the most beautiful angel in heaven." **_

_"**But I want her here, with me," little Shawn said, sadly. **_

_**I closed my eyes tightly. "I know. I want her here with me, too" I admitted. **_

_**I saw that little Shawn was still not looking at me. I was starting to get concern. I got up and walked around to face him. I tilted his head to see him practically straining his face and eyes, trying so hard to keep his tears in. In my gentlest voice, I said, "Hey, pal, it's okay." **_

_**He turned away from me again. He seemed ashamed to be looking at me. "No, Dad says I need to be a man. I can't cry," he spoke, his voice cracking. **_

_ **My heart broke. It was horrible. Even at a young age, I was force to put on a brave face, to hide behind a mask. I decided right then and there to let that little boy know, to let my younger self know that it was okay. "Little dude," I said, my own voice cracking and more tears forming in my eyes. "Dad's wrong. You don't need to be a man." **_

_**Little Shawn turned to me, tears on the verge on spilling down. "You mean it's okay to cry?" He asked, his voice clearly breaking. **_

_**Seeing the pain in that boy's eyes made me cry all the harder "Yeah, yeah, little dude," I spurted out. "Yeah, you can cry." **_

_**So, Little Shawn did, he cried. He fell into my arms and cried. **_

_ **As my own tears were coming down, I patted his back and whispered, "It's okay. It's okay." We let each cry for a while. **_

_**After a few minutes, we both calmed down. We broke away and little Shawn sat beside me. "What about you?" He asked. "Are you feeling brave enough to see Mommy in the coffin?" **_

_"**No, I'm not," I admitted. "I mean, I should be. Dude. I held her in my arms as she died. I said good-bye to her right before the funeral directors took her away. I shouldn't be afraid." **_

_"**Then what's up?" asked little Shawn. I took a deep breath and said, "I just don't know. It's a lot of things. Maybe seeing her in that coffin would mean that she's really dead. Maybe if I see her in the coffin, every time I think about her, my mind will go to the image of her in the coffin." **_

_"**It won't," he said. **_

_"**How do you know?" I asked. **_

_"**I just do," little Shawn said. "I've already done so many wonderful things with Mommy. I know I'm gonna do more when I get older."**_

_ **I smiled and said, "Yeah. You are. You're going to hear about when you were born, she's going to let you take around the ocean on a wave runner, she gonna challenge you to a hot dog eating contest. But you know what the best part is?" **_

_"**What?" Little Shawn asked, excitedly. "That she'll always tell you how much she loves you," I said.**_

_ **Little Shawn smiled at the good news. He reached over and gave me a hug and asked me, "Are you feel brave now?" I said, **_

_"**Yeah, I am, little dude." We got up and walked to the coffin. I took a deep breath and opened the coffin. I was horrified at what I saw. It wasn't my mother's body. It was her skeleton. I screamed. **_

_"**AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" **_

I woke up screaming and in a cold sweat, my hands shaking. I must have screamed really loud because Gus was up to my mother's room in flash.

He turned on the light, ran to me, and said, "Shawn, what's wrong. Are you ok?"

I could barely speak. I stammered. "I had a horrible dream."

"Take it easy, take a breath," he instructed.

I did just that. I calmed down long enough to explain. "I had a dream."

"Sounds like a nightmare," he said, handing me a towel to wipe my sweat.

"That's what it turned out to be," I explained. "I don't want to go into it but I was standing next to my mom's coffin, I opened it up, and it was a skeleton."

Gus took a breath. "Wow."

"Yeah, I was so scared about seeing my mom in that coffin," I explained. "I just don't want to have that image in my head, my mom in a coffin. I want to remember Mom as alive and sweet and kind. I'm just so afraid that all my memories of her will be death."

"Shawn, you know that's not true," Gus said. "You have done so many wonderful things with your mother."

"But what if her death overshadows all those wonderful things?" I questioned. "How do I remember my mother?"

"Just like you said before, alive, sweet, kind," Gus said. "A woman who went through hell and came out stronger. A woman who had a strong faith in God, which kept her together through tough times. And most of all, a woman who was a great mother to you and gave you all love and support and freedom that you needed. That's how you'll remember her."

Skeptically, I asked, "Gus, do you really think so? I mean, do you really and truly think so?"

"With time, Shawn," Gus said. "You will with time."

We sat in silence for a while. I thought about that Gus said. Like my broken heart being healed, I understood that it would take me a while to conjure up good, happy memories of my mom. But I could be patient.

"Look, Shawn, you need some sleep," Gus said, as he got up. "Gus, I can't sleep," I said. "I'm afraid that I'll close my eyes and see that coffin."

Gus's face soften. Gently, he asked, "Would you like me to sit with you until you fall asleep?"

At first, I thought that suggestion was stupid. A 30-year-old man needing someone to sit by his side? But then, I realized I wouldn't have gotten through the planning of my mom's funeral without Gus. So, I knew I wouldn't sleep if Gus weren't there, so I agreed, "Yeah, that would be good."

Gus smiled and sat in one of the chairs. I slid under the sheets and sunk my head into the soft pillows and feel fast asleep.

I slept thought the right of night and I had another dream, but it was much happier. Katie and I were in Mom's rose garden. Katie and I were slow dancing to some gorgeous love songs. After the song ended, I hugged Katie and gave her a sweet kiss. It was a beautiful dream and I hope it would become a reality.

I woke up the next morning to Gus shaking me.

"Shawn, Shawn, wake up!" Gus said. "We got go soon."

I opened my eyes to see rain coming down hard, hitting the window. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Are Uncle Tom and Aunt Suzie here?" I asked, as I got out of bed.

"Yeah, they're making breakfast," Gus answered.

"Look, I got to make the bed and get going," I explained, walking around. "I want to get to the funeral home early."

"Shawn, why don't let me clean up?" He suggested. "You take a shower and get dressed."

I took a breath and said, "Okay, thanks." I started to walk towards the bathroom when I realized that I needed to iron my brown suit.

"Katie ironed it," Gus answered me when I asked the question.

Shocked, I asked, "Katie's here?"

"Yeah, she wanted to come over and help out," Gus answered, as he started making the bed.

"Oh, okay, that's good," I said, pacing the floor, nervous.

"Shawn, what's up with you?" Gus asked.

"I had a dream and Katie was in it," I said.

Gus stopped making the bed and asked, '"What was the dream about?"

I leaned against the doorframe and answered, "We were dancing in Mom's rose garden and we kissed."

Gus smiled at me and said, "Sounds amazing."

"It was," I smiled.

I must have gotten that dreamy look in his eyes because Gus said, "Shawn, remember what I told you yesterday. You need to focus on your mother's wake. When this is all over with, then, you talk with Katie."

I agreed and went to the bathroom. I showered, shaved, and got into my suit.

Gus and I walked down to the dining room where Aunt Suzie and Katie were staring at two big picture frames and talking.

_"_Oh, my, Katie," Aunt Suzie marveled. "This looks wonderful. I love how you put this together. It's gonna look so nice at the service."

"Morning," I said.

Aunt Suzie and Katie responded, "Morning, Shawn."

I looked around and asked, "Where is Uncle Tom? I thought he was down here with you guys"

"He went to the airport to pick up your cousins," she responded. She was referring to her and Uncle Tom's five children, Ryan, Megan, Stephanie, TJ (Tom Jr.), and Rebecca.

Aunt Suzie walked over and kissed my cheek. "Shawn, you got to see what Katie made."

Gus & I walked over to the dining room table to see two picture frames lying on the table. They were two collages, all of pictures of my mother. They span her whole life, from the time she was a baby till now. The pictures showed various events; my mother playing in the sand with Uncle Tom, her high school and college graduations, her in her wedding dress, her holding me in the hospital a few days after my birth, her and I dancing at Rebecca's wedding.

Even though the pictures were different, I saw one common thread. My mom was smiling in every picture, every photo taken of her showed the happiness she felt for the special events and people in her life. Anyone who saw these pictures could tell how much Mom loved life, how much she cherished the people in her life. It was amazing to see that transformed onto pictures.

"Katie, how did you do all this?" I asked.

She answered. "Well, your uncle had all these pictures of your mom and he wanted to use them in the service but he had no idea how. So, I suggested a collage, since I have done them in the past"

"How long did it take for you to do this?" I asked.

"All night," she said.

I looked at her, amazed. "You stayed up all night to do this for me? You must be exhausted."

"I am a little," Katie laughed.

"But you're more important than sleep. Besides, I wanted you to have something that would help you have happy memories of your mom."

I was filled with such gratitude for this woman, for what she did for me; sacrificing sleep just to make sure I had a way to remember my mother. And for that reason, I felt more love for her than I had had in the 12 months we were dating. Tears in my eyes, I reached out and hugged Katie. I held her close to me and ran my fingers through her hair, amazed at how soft it felt.

I looked deep into her eyes, seeing all the love and care she had for me. And I knew at that point, I had the biggest mistake by breaking up with her. I just hope and prayed that I would get the chance to get it right.

For now, I just kissed her forehead and whispered, "Thank you, Katie. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Katie smiled and said, "You're welcome, Shawn." We stood at silence, looking at the pictures.

A few minutes later, Aunt Suzie called us all to breakfast. We all sat down, ate, and talked about common things, work, kids, and the weather. It seemed that we were all trying to make the mood a little bit lighter. We all knew what we would be dealing with in the next few hours.

A little while later, we left for the wake. When we arrived at the funeral home, my stomach did a million turns. I was so scared for what I was about to see, my mother in the coffin. I stood outside the funeral home, pacing back and forth. "I can't do this, I can't," I said, breathing heavily.

Katie grabbed me and said, "Shawn, you can do this. You need to."

I sat down on a curb and said, "I know but, I'm scared. I'm so scared."

Gus sat down beside me and said, "Look, Shawn, you have nothing to be scared of. All it is is your mother in a coffin. That's it."

Katie sat beside me and took my hand. "Shawn, I know you're scared, ok. You have a right to be. But I want you to remember something, ok. I'm going to tell you something very important that my aunt told me when I went to my grandfather's wake. Don't think of your mother as lying in a coffin. Think of her as moving to another city. And this city is filled with peace and happiness. And the best part is, that is she is not in pain. So, her body may be in a coffin, but her spirit is with God, she's in the arms of Jesus."

I looked at her with tears in my eyes and said, "I never thought of it that way."

"It's the truth," she said.

I hugged her and took a breath. I said, "Okay, let's do this."

I got up and squeezed the hands of both Katie and Gus. They flanked me as I made me way into the funeral home. I stood outside the room where my mother's wake was. I took a breath, said a prayer, and stepped into the room, taking all the strength I had been given in the past few days. I knew I would need it at that moment in time.


	7. The Viewing

A showdown between father and son at Shawn's mom's wake. Note that there is no flashback. I do not own the characters of**_ Psych_** or the song, **_You are My All in All_**. Enjoy and God bless.

I stood outside of the room where my mother's wake was to be held. I took a breath and stepped into the room. And then I saw her, my mother lying in an open coffin. I just saw her face and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I turned away.

Gus grabbed my shoulders and said, "Remember what Katie said. She's at peace."

I nodded and retorted, "Yeah, she's at peace. But she's not with me."

Gus gave me a sad smile and hugged me. "I know, man." He said.

With linked arms, we walked to the coffin. I looked closer and saw my mother. She really did look peaceful. She looked beautiful in the white and pink dress with the matching pink sweater. Her brown wig was perched on her head perfectly. It looked so natural. But her face was one feature I didn't like. She had too much make-up, the blush was too pink, and the lipstick was too red. For as long as I can remember, my mom rarely wore make-up. Only special occasions were times when she broke out the make-up and even then, it was simple; mascara, light lipstick. But I preferred my mom without makeup; she was naturally pretty. After I got over the make-up part, I noticed my mother's hands. They were folded, with silver cross laying on them. I placed my hand on hers, my thumb stroking the cross. I closed my eyes and said a prayer for God to give me strength to get through the next few hours. I knew they were going to be the hardest hours of my life.

Before the viewing began, I walked around the room. I had been so busy focusing on the coffin that I didn't notice the flowers that were gathered around the room. There were big, huge arrangements of different types of flowers, daffodils, roses, tulips, and carnations. I first noticed the flowers that were from the family. Uncle Tom and Aunt Suzie had an arrangement of yellow tulips with a ribbon that said, "Beloved Sister." Right next to that, my five cousins had arranged a bouquet of purple roses with the words, "Dear Aunt." However, there was an arrangement that was placed on top of the coffin that was from me. I wanted my arrangement to be something from the heart, something that had a connection from my mother to me. After much thought, I had an arrangement of pink roses, white Gerber daisies, and baby's breath. Those flowers had special meaning to me; those were the first flowers I planted with my mom, the first bouquet of flowers I bought for her when I got my first job, and the flowers I sent when she was in the hospital. I did have the ribbon, "Beloved mother" but I wanted a little card on there. On the card, I wrote, "I will miss you, Mom. Love, Shawn Michael."

After admiring all the pretty family flowers, I looked at the other arrangements that were from friends and acquaintances. I was in awe of all the arrangements. They were so beautiful. As I looked at the flowers, I read the accompanying cards, making a mental memo to write "thank you" notes. So many people sent flowers, Detective Lassiter and Chief Vick and the entire Santa Barbara Police Department. Captain Connors, my dad's old boss and his daughter, Trish, and her husband, Andrew, my mom's old employees from Santa Barbara, my mom's minister and his wife. All the floral arrangements had a card, all except one. It was small arrangement of flowers, just simple red roses. They were so pretty; they were the prettiest arrangement of roses I had ever seen. I wondered who sent them.

I saw one of the funeral directors place another arrangement of flowers in the room. "Excuse me, sir, do you know who these red roses are from?" I asked.

"Um, no, the florist sent them here before we even opened up," he said, as he placed the flowers down.

"There was no card or anything?" I asked.

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer," he said. He arranged the flowers and left.

I wanted to ponder who could have sent the roses and left no note. I didn't have much time to ponder, though. A line was already forming for people to come in and pay their respects. Throughout the afternoon and evening, I stood by the coffin, greeting people as they came by. They offered their condolences, mentioned how I was in their thoughts and prayers, and offered their help. I couldn't believe, there were so many people; the line was out the door. It really touched me to see how many people came out and expressed their condolences. Although I felt overwhelmed with love and support, I had to admit to questioning the intentions of some of these people. A lot of these people I never seen before. Did they visit my mom? Did they call? Send over a casserole? Not that I remembered. So, if they didn't do anything for my mom while she was alive, how the heck are they going to do anything for her in death? However, I realized that maybe these people did keep my mom in their prayers. Maybe they did give a thought to my mom and her illness. And those thoughts comforted me.

The wake ended at nine o'clock and the last of the mourners had left. Despite all the wonderful people who came to offer their condolences, one person did not show up. My father. Now, there were people who I never met that came to pay their respects. But my own father did not show up at all. Not a phone call, not an email, not even flowers. I was beyond angry with my father. I was hurt. I was so hurt, it brought me to tears. I sat down on a chair and stared at my mom.

Gus came up to me and said, "Shawn, we better get going. The funeral directors want to take your mother to the crematorium since it closes in 30 minutes. "

My response was, "My father never came."

"I'm sorry, Shawn," he said.

My voice cracked as I spoke. "You think that after all this time, my father would have some shred of sensitivity in him and feel compelled enough to come to his own ex-wife's wake. I mean, he did squat for her during her whole illness, I just thought he would come to the wake."

"Shawn, don't-----" Gus started to say.

"No!!" I screamed, tears forming in my eyes. "I've kept quiet for too damn long. My mother was sick for 6 months, Gus. SIX FREAKING MONTHS!!! I flew out every weekend to take care of her. How many times did my dad fly out? None. I hired a hospice nurse on my own. Was my dad there for all those interviews? No. I had to fight with the medical insurance because they couldn't cover the cost of a hospital bed I had to set that damn thing up. Did my father offer to help me do both things? No. I had to do everything myself, Gus, ok."

My eyes overflowed with tears. "I had to sit in a damn waiting room for 3 hours while my mother had a hysteromony. I had to hold her and bathe her because she didn't have the strength to do it herself. I had to watch her vomit blood from the chemo. I had to watch her get injections, seeing those needles go in her. I had to watch her hair fall out her. I had to tell her that the doctors were going to stop chemo treatments because there was no progress. I had to hold her in my arms and feel her body shut down. I had to watch her die. And I had to do all of this by myself. BY MY FRIGGIN' SELF!!! My father was not there for my mother, my father was not there for me!!!!!!!!" I screamed as tears cascading down my cheeks like a waterfall. I broke down and sobbed.

Gus handed me a box of tissues. I responded by hurling them across the room. They hit one of the collages and broke the picture frame.

"Oh, my gosh," I said. I run to the damage.

"Careful, Shawn, there's broken glass all over the place," Gus said.

I ignored him and picked up a piece of glass. It cut my fingers instantly. "Owwwww!!!!!!!!!" I screamed, holding my finger, which was now bleeding. My finger hurt so much. I started crying.

Gus handed me a cloth and said, "Look, I'll get Katie. You keep this cloth wrapped around your finger and put pressure on them. Katie was a nurse, so we knew she could help me.

"Ok," I said. I sat down and put pressure on my cut. I rested my head against the coffin. I had a huge headache from….everything. The planning of the funeral, the wake itself, the intentions of everyone, and now, I cut my finger!!! And it hurt so deep. I suddenly felt like a little kid again, weak, helpless, and afraid. And like a little kid, I wanted my mom. I wanted her to give bandages me up, kiss my cut, and make it all better. But she wasn't and it hurt me all the more. I suddenly, found myself calling for my mom. Through my tears, I called out, "Mom, Mommy, it hurts so much. I can't deal with this, Mom. Why aren't you here to help me? Why are you dead? Why did God have to take you away from me?" I broke down and cried my eyes out. I couldn 't deal with it anymore. It was too much for my heart to take. I cried so hard that my body began to shake and I began to breath heavily. I was having a panic attack. I felt like my body about to explode when I heard a voice, a female voice singing a song I knew very well.

_**You are my strength when I am weak **__**  
**__**you are the treasure that I seek **__**  
**__**You are my all in all **__**  
**__**Seeking you like a precious jewel **__**  
**__**Lord to give up I'd be a fool **__**  
**__**You are my all in all**_ **_Jesus lamb of God _**_**  
**_**_Worthy is your name (2x)_**

**_Taking my cross my sin my shame _**_**  
**_**_raising again I praise your name _**_**  
**_**_you are my all in all _**_**  
**_**_When I fall down you pick me up _**_**  
**_**_when I run dry you fill my cup _**_**  
**_**_You are my all in all_**

I closed my eyes and listened to the voice. It was so beautiful and pure and heavenly that it made me cry tears of comfort. It made me smile. Immediately, I felt all the pain go away and joy enter. That song felt like a hug around my soul. And in that moment, I felt as if I was really receiving a hug but the funny part was….I didn't see any hands or arms. But I knew I was being hugged and I knew the person who was hugging me and who was singing to me. My mother. I smiled at that. My mother was here. I felt her so real and so close to me, like a warm blanket on a cold night. It felt so wonderful. Suddenly, my mom stopped singing. She said, "Shawn, sweetness, I'm here." I smiled and said, "Mom…" I turned around, thinking that I would see my mom. But I didn't. I saw Katie.

"Shawn, are you all right?" she asked.

I looked around to find my mom. "Where, where is my mom?" I asked, anxiously.

Katie looked at me critically. "In the coffin," she said, seriously. She sat down next to me and began to check out my cut.

"No, not that---" I started to say.

Katie interrupted and said, "Shawn, I'm sorry but I really need to look at your cut."

Reluctantly, I shut up and let her work on me. Using a first aid kit from Uncle Tom's car, she found that the cut was not very deep and there was no glass in it. She cleaned it up and put some gauze bandages on it.

After she was done, she asked, "Ok, what's up? "My mom was here," I said.

Katie looked worried. She responded with, "Yeah, Shawn. I just told you she is in the coffin. Are you losing it?"

"No! No!" I yelled and got up. "She was here, Katie. My mom was here and she was singing to me. Didn't you hear it?"

She got up and said, "Well, I heard an organist-------------"

"No!! Not the organist. A song a praise and worship song, 'you are my all in all'", I said. I walked around, grabbed Katie, and said, "My mother loved that song and she played it over and over again when she was alive. Katie, I was here and I heard her sing me that very song. And she hugged me." Katie was clearly getting freaked out.

She backed off and said, calmly. "Ok, ok, Shawn, I know you cut yourself and perhaps you passed out and thought you heard your mom sing………."

"No! Damn it, Katie!!!! I heard my mom. I heard her!!!" I yelled. I sat down and put my face in my hands. "She sang to me a song that brought her comfort in her final days. And she brought comfort to me, Katie. Do you have any clue how much pain I am in? Does anybody have any idea how much I'm hurting? Huh? I haven't felt any joy in days. And today, I did. And you accuse me of….." I couldn't take it anymore. I broke down and cried.

Katie sat down next to me and gave me a hug. I cried on her shoulder. "It's okay, Shawn. It's okay," she said.

I held onto her as I cried. I just let it out. I cried on her shoulder.

After while, Katie said, "I'm so sorry about doubting you before."

"It's okay," I said. "I would probably have done the same." I stood up and rubbed my eyes. "I have the hugest headache in the world."

Katie walked over to me and handed me Tylenol and water.

I took two Tylenols and drank the water.

"Do you feel better?" She asked.

"A little bit," I said. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Why don't we have Uncle Tom drive you home?" Katie suggested.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Did you say good bye to your mom?" Katie asked.

I looked at my mom in the coffin. I knew that this would be the last time I would see her body. "I can't do it," I said. "I can't say good-bye."

Katie walked over to me and said; "Don't think of it as good bye. Think of it as 'See you later'."

I closed my eyes and thought about that. Would it really be 'See you later'? Would I see her again? As I pondered those questions, I walked to my mom's coffin.

"I'll leave you alone," she said. She walked out.

I stepped up to the coffin. I placed my right hand on my mother's clasped hands and stroked her face with my left hand. "Mom, I got to be honest with you, the past few days have been the hardest of my whole life," I said. "Not having you here is much harder than I thought it would be. And having Dad not be here makes all the worst. Man, I am so angry and hurt right now, Mom. He didn't even bother to show up. How did you do it? How did you live for 20 years with that guy? How? I don't understand it." I rubbed my face again and said, "I'm so tired, Mom. I'm sick and tired of it all." Then, my voice softens. "But I'm glad that you showed up to help me, to sing to me, hug me, and comfort me like you always did." Tears glisten my eyes as I said; "I hope you'll comfort me tomorrow." I reached over and hugged my mom. "Mom, I love you very much. I always have and I always will. I kissed my mom's forehead. "See ya, Mom."

I turned around to walk out when I came face to face with… "Dad?" I asked.

My dad was here, standing in the doorframe. He was wearing a black suit.

"Am I too late?" He asked.

"No, you're not,"I responded, stiffly. "They were just about to take Mom to the crematorium."

Dad nodded and walked over to the coffin. He looked at my mom and said, "She looks wonderful."

"Yes, she does," I responded, blowing my nose.

"Pink was her favorite color," he said, fondly. "I remember everything in our room was pink, it made me sick at times."

"Yeah, well, I liked it," I responded, angrily. I walked over to him and said, "You got as lot of nerve coming here so late and criticizing Mom's favorite things. Where the hell were you today?"

"I had a hard time getting a flight," he responded.

"I emailed you the information for the wake and funeral the very day I made the plans, that was two days ago, you could have gotten a flight then," I retorted.

"Look, Shawn, I don't need this," he said. "This is hard for me------"

"Hard for you?" I questioned angrily. "Hard for you? Dad, do you have any idea what I have been through in the past six months? Do you? I watched my mother suffer and die. Gus & I had had to pick out a freaking coffin and going though all her clothes trying to find something suitable for her. I've had headaches because of all the crying I've been doing-----"

"What did I tell you, Shawn about crying?" he said. "I told you to be a man and suck it up."

I was mad!!!!!!!!! I got in his face and screamed, "How dare YOU!! How dare you?!" I wanted to punch him but I knew that wouldn't solve anything. I just backed off and paced the floor. I took a breath and spoke more quietly. "You know, Dad, I really thought that, um, you would understand what I'm feeling. I lost my mom, Dad. I lost the one person who showed me how to dream, how to love, how to be happy, and how to be strong."

"Mom taught you all that?" He asked, skeptically.

"Yeah, she did. Because that's how she lived her life," I explained. "And all those lessons came from having faith in God. Her faith kept her going, Dad. Her faith in God gave her the courage to fight the cancer as long as she did. Her faith in God gave her me."

"I think her faith in God was irrational," Dad said. "Because if she had all this faith, why did so many bad things happen to her? Why did she have such a hard time getting pregnant? Why did she lose a baby? Why did she get sick? You see, Shawn, her faith may have given her all this happiness but it always have her a lot of pain."

I couldn't believe what my father had just said. How could he so insensitive and hurtful? I was in so much agony over my mom's death. I thought he would at least put a hand on my shoulder and say, "It'll be okay, kid." But no, typical Henry Lawrence Spencer, telling me to just cover up my pain, just put on a mask.

I couldn't do it anymore so, I gathered up my things, pushed through my father, and said, "You know what, Dad, and I'm really tired. I got to got to bed."

I walked to the doorway. I turned around and said, "By the way, the funeral's tomorrow at 10 am. I'm scattering Mom's ashes at sunset on the beach. Come if you want, I really don't care."

With that, I stormed off, out of the funeral home and into my uncle's car.

Gus joined me two minutes later. "So, I saw your dad. I take it you two didn't have the best conversation." "

It was awful, Gus," I said, rubbing my eyes. "If you don't mind, I really don't feel like talking about it."

"Ok, I understand," Gus, said.

I just sat back in the car as Uncle Tom drove us home. I went to bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I was just too tired, physically and emotionally.


	8. The Scattering

I slept through the night, calm and uninterrupted. It was the first time in days that I had slept through the whole night. Maybe perhaps the reason why I slept so peacefully was because I was in my mom's bed. When I woke up Saturday morning, I felt much more rested, emotionally, mentally, and physically. I needed to be; today was my mother's funeral. Immediately, I felt the sadness and nerves rise within me because I knew this would be so emotional and so draining. I knew I would cry and I was sick of crying and sobbing. I think I cried everyday since I arrived in Savannah. I got up and walked up to the window seat. I sat down and saw that it was a bad day, weather wise. Gray clouds, a light rain started to come down. I started to worry a little bit about the rain. I hope it didn't downpour into the night because I had to scatter my mom's ashes. It was then that I realized that I hadn't gotten the music together for that evening. Since I only had an hour and a half until the funeral, I quickly made the bed, showered, and put on my black suit. I walked down to the living room and sat down on the couch. On the coffee table was the CD player that was practically by my mom's side throughout her illness. I opened the CD player and took out the CD that was in there. In addition to talking about funeral arrangements, Mom mentioned to me that she wanted this CD played in the background as I scattered the ashes. . On it, it said, "Inspiration" That was music was to her, inspiration. Along with prayer, music gave my mom courage and strength to face her cancer. I popped the CD in the player again to listen to it. The first song started playing.

_**You can spend your whole life building  
Something from nothin'  
One storm can come and blow it all away  
Build it anyway**_

You can chase a dream  
That seems so out of reach  
And you know it might not ever come your way  
Dream it anyway

God is great  
But sometimes life ain't good  
And when I pray  
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should  
But I do it anyway  
I do it anyway  
  
_**This world's gone crazy  
It's hard to believe  
That tomorrow will be better than today  
Believe it anyway**_

You can love someone with all your heart  
For all the right reasons  
In a moment they can choose to walk away  
Love 'em anyway

God is great  
But sometimes life ain't good  
And when I pray  
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should  
But I do it anyway  
I do it anyways

You can pour your soul out singing  
A song you believe in  
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang  
Sing it anyway  
Yea - sing it anyway

I sing  
I dream  
I love  
OH Anyway 

That song brought me to tears. That song summed up my mother's life in 4 minutes. She sang, she dreamed, she loved.

_**You can pour your soul out singing  
A song you believe in  
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang  
Sing it anyway  
Yea - sing it anyway**_

Mom dreamed of becoming an actress and even though she never went beyond local theater and TV, she dreamed anyway. She wanted to be Linda Ronstrandt, but she only was able to sing in church. But she sang anyway.

_**You can love someone with all your heart  
For all the right reasons  
In a moment they can choose to walk away  
Love 'em anyway**_

Mom loved my father from the bottom of her heart. She cared for him with a devotion that I ahd never seen before. She put her dreams on hold to be a good wife to him. And how did he repay her? He left her. He left her by leaving a note. Naturally, Mom had hard feelings towards Dad but undernearth it all, she still loved him and she still loved people.

God is great  
But sometimes life ain't good  
And when I pray  
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should  
But I do it anyway  
I do it anyways

Mom always held onto her faith in Christ. She prayed everyday. And when she got cancer, she prayed to get better. And even in her final days, she still prayed, even though she knew she would die, she still prayed. In the eyes of others, she should have cursed God. But she didn't. She relied on Him all the more. She prayed all the more.

That was my mom. She loved anyway. She dreamed anyway. She prayed anyway. She lived anyway. And that's what I hoped people would know about my mom today at the funeral.

As I listened to the rest of the CD, Uncle Tom walked into the room and said, "Your father just called. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted directions to the church."

I shut off the CD and retorted, "Well, I don't want to talk to him. I have nothing to say to him." I got up and walked onto the porch.

Uncle Tom walked out and joined me viewing the activities of the beach. The lifeguards had just arrived and were setting up their posts.

"Whenever I see those lifegfuards, it reminds of your mom and I. We were lifeguards starting the summer I was a freshman and she was a sophmore. And we were lifeguards every summer until we graduated college," he said. "Do you remember the summers you spent here, Shawn?"

I smiled at those memories. "Yeah, I had the best time here when I was a kid, swimming, surfing, building sandcastles. It was awesome hanging out with everyone."

"Including your father," he said.

I rolled my eyes and asked, "Can you please not mention him, Uncle Tom? I still angry at him for last night."

"Yeah, I think we all know how angry you were. In fact, I think all of Savannah knows how you felt," he said.

"Well, he did nothing for Mom," I said, pacing the porch. "He never bothered to ask me how she was. He never called her. He never flew out to see her."

"Yes, he did," Uncle Tom said.

I stood there, stunned. "What? What do you mean?"

"Maybe you should ask him," Uncle Tom said.

"No, I'm asking you," I said, grabbing his shoulder.

Uncle Tom and I sat down on the porch swing. "About a month ago, I drove out to visit your mom and talk to the doctors. Anyway, I came to the house and saw your father here. I couldn't believe it, myself. I hadn't seen your dad since your parents divorced. I was expecting the two of them to be fighting but….they didn't. They had a wonderful conversation."

"What did they talk about?" I asked, softly.

"Well, he apologized for not being there for her when she needed him," Uncle Tom said.

"That's a start," I said. "Did he explained the reasons?"

"I didn't hear the reasons, I had just come in when he said that," Uncle Tom explained. "But did they talk about other things."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Everything," Uncle Tom, as Aunt Suzie came outside and served us coffee and toast. "They talked about their courtship, their wedding, their honeymoon, their son-----"

"And how much I disappointed him," I interrupted.

""No, your dad said nothing of the sort," Uncle Tom said, softly. "Your mom told him how much you've been helping her, how you flew out every weekend, how you took care of her, how you sat with her, prayed with her, talked to her, listened to music with her. She said how proud she was of you and that he should be, too."

"And what did Dad say about that?" I asked.

"He said, 'I sure am,'" Uncle Tom said.

I sat there, shocked. "He said he was proud of me?" I repeated.

"Yeah," he said. "Very proud. He said that you may not have become a cop like he wanted but you became the man that you needed to be."

Tears were in my eyes as I heard that. My dad was proud of me but he never said that to me. I hope that one day he would sat that to me.

We left for the funeral a few minutes later. I walked into the church and saw the urn on the altar that contained my mom's ashes. I walked up to it and stroked the urn. The urn looked amazing; it was blue and silver, just like my mom wanted it. Next to the urn, I saw her brown Bible. A few feet away, I saw the two collages (Katie had bought another one last night) and I saw all the flowers from the night before. However, on the altar laid my flowers, Uncle Tom's flowers, my cousins' flowers, and those red roses. I still did not know who sent them. I had asked Uncle Tom about the roses and he didn't know either.

Gus, Katie, Aunt Suzie, and Uncle Tom came into the sanctuary. Katie walked up to me, hugged me, and said, "The church looks so beautiful."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, it does."

"Are you okay, Shawn?" she asked.

I looked down and said, "Katie, I feel so bad about what I said to my father last night. I yelled at him and I said all these horrible things to him. I mean, at first, I didn't feel any remorse. I actually felt good because I let go out of all the angry I had inside of me. But, now, I feel horrible because he said he was proud of me."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Because my uncle found out that my dad had visited my mom," I said.

Katie was astounded. "Shawn, when did he visit her?"

"About a month ago," I answered.

"And he didn't tell you?" she asked.

"No, he didn't," I said. I sat down in one of the pews.

"Are you upset that he didn't tell you?' she asked me.

I thought about it. "Yeah, yeah, I am," I admitted. "It just really shows me what kind of relationship we have. I mean, he doesn't think much of me to tell me that he visited my mom. And he didn't even tell me he was proud of me. I had to hear it from my uncle."

Katie sat down beside me, took my hand, and said, tenderly, "I think you need to talk to your dad, seriously."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Katie, I can't. I can't talk to my father about sensitive, emotional stuff."

She rubbed my hand and asked, "Have you ever tried?"

I thought about it for a while. "Not really, no," I answered.

"Maybe you should try," she said. She rubbed my hand, kissed my forehead, and went to another pew.

I moved to the first pew, were my aunt and uncle and cousins were sitting. Katie and Gus sat in the pew behind us. Soon, the pianist sat by a beautiful, brown piano and began playing hymns.

After about five mintiues of music, Rev. Kincaid came and began speaking. I took a good look at him, standing by the pulpit. It seemed that he was reveling, having a hard time accpeting my mother's death. He and his wife had known my mother for years, had helped her through so much with her illness. That is part of the reason why my mom's faith was so strong in her final days. Reverend began speaking.

"We are gathered here today, to honor a a simple woman who had extraordinary faith. And her faith kept her alive, kept her strong. I knew Abigail Jean Monroe Spencer for over 40 years. I've seen grow up from an insecure girl, unsure of herself to a strong, confident who knew how to handle life's difficulties. One of the difficulties she had to endure was having children. One of the first conversation we had was about family and marriage and children. She more than anything in the world wanted to be a mother. When I married her and her husband, Henry, she told me at the reception that she hoped to have a 'honeymoon' baby. She did. She found out she was pregnant, shortly after the honeymoon. However, she lost the child. Then, a year later, she got pregnant again and lost the child again. And then, on her fifth wedding anniversary, she found out she was pregnant again. And God blessed her with Shawn Michael. Shawn, your mom prayed so hard for you. She wanted to be a mother so bad. It was much more than wanting a baby, she knew the difference between wanting a baby and wanting to be a mother. She loved you so much , Shawn. She talked endlessly about you, all your accomplishments, all your interests, everything. She was so proud of you. She told me that she thanked God everyday for her little boy. Yes, Shawn, even though you're a grown man, you were her little boy. And you helped her through so many painful times. When she was sick, the first person who came to her mind was Shawn. She was worried and scared for how he would take the news of her illness. She was scared of how he would deal with her illness and inevitable death. Then, she went to visit Shawn in California to tell him about her illness. And when she came back, she said, 'Reverend, I am not afraid anymore. My Shawn told me he'd help me through this. My Lord and my son will keep me strong. My Lord and my son will be my rock.' And they were."

I closed my eyes and let some tears fall down. I felt so loved and humbled. Little boy. I was my mother's little boy and she was proud of me. She bragged about me. She thanked God for me. That is what touched my heart the most. She went to her Higher Power and thanked Him for me. To her, God sent me, just like He sent Katie. I was my mom's angel. I was my mom's rock and kept her going. And that is what hurt me the most. My dad couldn't see that, he couldn't see that devotion. And that is why I cried hard, my father couldn't see how much I meant to my mom. And then I did see. I heard sniffing. I turned around to see my father in the pew behind me, wiping his eyes with a tissue. The words of the reverend had gotten to my dad, he saw how wonderful my mother was. And he was probably regretting that he didn't tell my mom how he felt about her. But something told me there was more than that. And I was determined to find out.

The service ended 45 minutes later. We all went to a local restaurant for the repast. Later that night, I changed into some jeans and a blue-striped shirt. I gathered my mom's urn, the CD player, the Inspiration CD, the brown Bible, and a purple blanket and drove to the beach. I found a beautiful spot right by the water's edge. I sat down, looked, and listened to the ocean. It looked so calm. The waves were small and crashing quietly. The scene filled me with such peace, which is what I needed. I needed this peace, because I was about to scatter my mom's ashes. And that scared me. The reason it scared me was because it was the last step of grief for me. It was letting my mom go, once and for all. And I didn't want to. I wanted my mom here with me, even if it was just an urn. I picked up the urn and held it to me.

"Aww, Mama, I can't do this," I said, tears forming in my eyes. "I can't let you go."

"You have to, kid," said a voice.

I looked up and saw my father, standing next to me.

"I can't, Dad," I admitted. "I can't do this. I don't care what you say, but I'm not strong enough. Ok, I admit it. I'm not like you."

"And I'm glad," Dad said.

. "What?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes, yes, I am," Dad said. "I'm glad that you can feel this. I'm glad that you can feel this pain, that you can feel the love that your mom had for you, that you can feel angry at me for not being there for you and your mom. I'm glad that you let your emotions out because I never did."

"You did today," I said.

"Yeah, I did," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because today, I realized how much I was going to miss your mom," he said, looking at the ocean. "I realized that she was truly gone and not coming back."

"I know, it's hard for me to accept, too," I said, picking up the Bible.

"That's a beautiful Bible," he said.

"Yeah, it is," I said. "Rev. Kincaid's wife bought it for her when she got sick."

"Umm," he said.

After a few seconds of silence followed. Then, I asked him the question I needed to ask. "Dad, why didn't you tell me that you visited Mom?"

Dad looked down at his hands. "Wow, how did you know?"

"Uncle Tom told me this morning," I said, clutching the Bible. "He said that you talked about all the major moments in your life with Mom, wedding, honeymoon."

"Yup, we talked about all that," Dad said. "But we also talked about other things."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, little things that may not mean much, but were important in our relationship," Dad said, staring at the ocean. "We talked about the first time we realized we were in love."

"When? How?" I asked.

"We were sitting on the beach, late at night, I had a late shift and she wanted to see me," he explained. "So, by the time I got off work, all the restaurants were closed, so she suggested packing a picnic lunch and eat it on the beach. I'll never forget how she looked when I saw her on the beach blanket. She was wearing this pink dress, her brown hair was in curls, it was flowing in the wind. As I walked closer, I saw her looking at the ocean, with this big smile on her face. At that moment, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."

"What happened during the date, if you don't mind me asking," I said.

Dad looked at me and said, "Well, we ate and afterwards, she bought out this little 8 track player. She started singing this song, this hymnal from her church. It was about God and love and faith. And she sang it with such soul and passion. By the time, the song was over, I was crying. And I knew, just knew that I was with the love of my life."

I smiled at my dad. "Love of your life," I repeated. "I never heard you say those words."

"Well, that what your mother was to me," he said.

"Dad, why didn't you ever tell Mom that?" I asked. "I mean, you never said 'I love you, Abby' or 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me'."

"I wasn't the kind of guy that showed his emotions," Dad said. "How I was raised, men didn't cry or say things like that. Maybe thaty;s why our marriage went downhill, because I wasnt' opened with my feelings. Whenever your mother wanted talk about things, I would just push her away because I couldn't express what was in my heart. And your mother deserved that. Your mom deserved to hear what I was feeling."

"Did you tell her this?" I asked.

Dad smiled, sadly. "Yeah, I did. I remember the last time I saw her. It was about 2 weeks before she died. I walked into the room and saw her wearing a pink dress similar to the one she wore when we had that date. She was lying in her hospital bed, her bald head covered by the purple scarf, looking at the ocean, listening to music, and smiling. That is what I always admired about her, no matter how hard life was, she always had that beautiful smile on her face. Anyway, I walked in and she turned to me and said, 'Hi, Hank. It's been a long time.' I said, 'Yeah, Abby. It has and I'm sorry.' And I sat beside her and said I was sorry for everything I had done to her; not being there for her, for not going to church when she wanted me to, for not telling her how I felt, for not visiting her during her illness, for everything."

"And what did she say?" I asked, clutching the urn to my chest.

"Well, I thought she would curse me out, tell me she hated me," he said. "But she didn't. She asked for my hand, and she held it. She said, 'Hank, darling, I have let go of all my anger and sadness towards you long ago. I forgive you for everything.' And I told her, 'Abby, I did so much to you. How could you just forgive me?' And she said, "Hank, darling, we all make mistakes, we all say things we shouldn't say, we all do things we shouldn't do. But God forgives us, always. So, I should forgive you.' Kid, I gotta tell you that got me. I lost it. I just lost it, I buried my face in her lap and cried. She stroked my head and said, 'It's okay, Hank, its all right.' And it was. I cried and I felt no shame, nothing. In fact, it felt cathartic. I felt like I was letting go of all the fear and pain I had. Well, after that, we talked about our wedding, honeymoon, you. We drank lemonade. It was wonderful. And what made it more wonderful was the end when I went over to her, hugged her, and told her, 'I love you Abigail. You are the love of my life.' She said the same and we kissed. We shared the sweetest kiss. I left the house, thinking to myself, No matter what woman I choose to spend the rest of my life with, I will never love her the way I loved Abigail."

I stood up and walked to the water's edge, still clutching the urn. I had tears in my eyes and I didn't want Dad to see me this way.

I heard Dad walking behind me and he said, "It's getting dark, maybe we should scatter the ashes."

I swallowed, nodded, and with shaky hands, opened the urn. I poured the ashes out and let them go with the wind. As I saw the ashes go, I thought of my mom. I realized that the ashes were a good metaphor for her. The ashes were free to fly around, no boundaries, no limits, no worries. That was my mom, she was free, she could be an angel, flying around, walking with God, no limits, no sickness, no crying. She was free. Now I understood when people say that my mother wasn't suffering anymore. She was at peace. She was in Heaven. She was with Jesus. And that made me feel so good. I smiled as I thought about that. Dad and I just stood at the water's edge seeing the last of those ashes leave.

A few hours later, it was time for bed. I was in my pajamas, sitting on my mom's bed, looking at the photo collages Katie had made. I heard a knock at the door. I looked up and saw Dad standing there.

"Hey, Shawn, what's up," Dad asked.

"Looking at these photo collages of Mom," I said. "Katie made them for the services."

Dad sat next to the bed and looked at the photos. "Umm, I remember this day." He pointed to the wedding photo.

"Was it a nice wedding?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, very nice," he said. "Your uncle Tom was dating Suzie at the time and she was in college, studying to be a event planner, so she helped plan the wedding. Big church, lots of red roses."

"Red roses?" I asked, thinking of the flowers I saw in the funeral home.

"Yeah, those were one of your mom's favorite flowers," he explained. "And they were also the flower of our relationship. I bought her flowers to make her feel better after she got mugged. I gave her red roses on every date we had, I gave her red roses the night I asked her to marry me, I even gave her red roses when she had you."

I looked at him, seriously. "Dad, you sent the red roses to the funeral home," I said.

Dad smiled, "Yes, I did."

"You made a good choice," I said, smiling. "They're beautiful flowers."

"Thanks, and you did a pretty good job organizing the funeral," he said.

"Yeah, well, Mom and I talked a lot about what she wanted," I said, wrapping myself in warm blanket. "It was hard to do, but we had to."

"You know, one of the things she talked about was how close you two were," Dad said. "She talked about how you flew down every weekend and helped her, talked to the doctors, arranged for the hospice nurse, how you sat with her, held her hand, held her as she was in pain. She said that she was so grateful that she had a son like you. And I agreed with her. Shawn, I am very, very proud of you."

I looked up, surprised. "What?"

Dad laughed. "Yeah, I know that it's a shock for you to hear that but I am. I never expected you to be mature about anything but when Mom got sick, you grew up. You took responsibility, you helped your mom, your planned the funeral. You really grew up and became the man that I wanted you to become. I'm proud of you."

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

Dad and I sat in silence for awhile. It was awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to say.

Finally, Dad said, "Look, Shawn, I know you are mad at me for not helping with your mom. I hope you understand why."

I got up and said, "No, I don't. I don't understand why you could fly down to see Mom by yourself but couldn't with fly down with me."

"Shawn, didn't you hear what I just said?" he said. "You needed to grow up. You needed to take responsibility. If I came down and did everything for your mom, you wouldn''t have gone through all of this. You wouldn't be the mature man I see right now. Look, I'm very sorry that I didn't explain this to you sooner but you needed to do this."

I took a deep breath and said, "I never thought of it that way. I really did grow up during this whole thing. But there were a lot of things I learned, too."

"Like what, pal?" he asked.

"I learned how blessed I am, cause I have so many wonderful people who love and care for me," I said, tears forming in my eyes. "I learned that there is Something higher and stronger than me that has helped, is helping, and will continue to help me. I learned that I have a beautiful woman who has touched me in ways I've never felt before. I've learned that I have a lot of love and forgiveness to offer. And most of all, I've learned that everything good inside of me, love, forgiveness, strength, comes from my mother."

I thought about what I had said. I realized how true that was. I realized how true everything was. My father really and truly loved my mother, she was the love of his life, just like he was the love of her life. And that love did not go away, even after all this time. And that my mother did given me the ability to love and forgive. And to feel, to feel my emotions, to feel my heart. And I realized that I was gonna miss that. With that, the tears that I had been holding in, were spilling down my cheeks. All the pain and anger I held towards my father were spilling out in those tears. All the sadness that I had towards the fact that my mother was gone were spilling out in those tears. I turned away, thinking that my father would tell me to not cry..but I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. I knew that those arms belonged to my father. I turned in his arms and cried.

In the midst of my tears, I heard my father say, "It's all right, Shawn Michael. You don't have to suck it up. It's all right. It's all right to cry."

SO I did. I cried. I cried for a long time. And then I heard my father cry. I was so shocked, my father never cried. But I didn't care. I just wrapped my arms tighter around my father and comforted him, like he did with me, like my mom was doing. I knew my mom was comforting the both of us. I felt it. I felt it so strong.

After a while, we had run out of tears. I was so tired and so drained, mentally, physically, emotionally. I just wanted to go to sleep and I knew Dad wanted to do the same, so we said good night. I climbed into bed, snuggled under the covers, and laid my head on the pillow.

I wasn't asleep, I just had my eyes closed, so I could still hear what was going on. I heard my father walk into my room. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt him lean over and give me a kiss on my forehead. He hadn't given me a kiss or a hug in so long. And it felt nice. I felt loved and cared for. Now, that I had settled things with my father, it was time to settle things with another important person in my life. Katie.


End file.
